r^A 


EDGAR  BEECHER  BR0NSON 


IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 


IN 
CLOSED  TERRITORY 


BY 


EDGAR  BEECHER  BRONSON 

AUTHOR  OF  "REMINISCENCES  OF  A  RANCHMAN,"  ETC. 


WITH  NEARLY  loo  ILLUSTRATIONS  FROM 
PHOTOGRAPHS  BT  THE  AUTHOR 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 
1910 


COPYRIGHT 
A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 

1910 

Published  February  26,  1910 
Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  England 

Some  of  the  material  in  this  volume  has 
previously  appeared  in  "The  Century  Maga- 
zine," the  Associated  Sunday  Magazines,  and 
elsewhere,  and  is  used  here  by  permission. 


R.  R.  DONNELLEY  *  SONS  COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


TO  THAT  STANCHEST  FRIEND 

AND  STEADIEST  SHOT 

WILLIAM  NORTHRUP  McMILLAN 

THIS  BOOK  IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 

BY  THE  AUTHOR 


"  I  also  recall  his  saying  —  'The  man  who  has  not  taken 
his  life  in  his  hands  at  some  time  or  other  has  not  lived. '  ' 
— AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS. 

— "Reminiscences  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson." 


PREFACE 

TERRITORY"  is  a  phrase  that  in- 
spires  longings  and  expresses  conditions  of  the 
sort  that,  in  one  form  or  another  from  the  days  of 
Adam,  have  served  out  to  mankind  most  of  the  sweetest 
pleasures  and  bitterest  pains  experienced  between  earliest 
sentient  childhood  and  feeblest  senile  age.  Never  are  we 
so  old  or  so  young  that  we  are  entirely  safe  from  the  allure- 
ments it  suggests,  the  novel  charms  and  new  intoxications 
with  which  our  imagination  close  hedges  every  sinuous 
turn  of  forbidden  paths.  The  pitfalls  it  holds,  alike  for 
toddling  infancy,  firm-treading  prime,  and  halting,  stum- 
bling age,  we  never  think  of  until  into  them  we  are  deeply 
and  more  or  less  hopelessly  plunged. 

Happy  indeed,  then,  he  who  may  be  so  fortunate  as 
to  win  free  franchise  to  "  Closed  Territory,"  to  traverse 
it  untainted,  and  to  leave  it  unscarred. 

A  personal  acquaintance  with  the  British  East  African 
Protectorate  can  scarcely  fail  to  make  any  observant, 
thoughtful  Briton  or  American  proud  of  his  Anglo- 
Saxonhood,  of  its  boldness,  its  actual  audacity. 

This  newest  of  British  Colonies  comprises  400,000 
square  miles  of  territory.  It  has  a  native  black  popula- 
tion of  4,000,000,  divided  among  something  over  a  dozen 
different  tribes,  each  widely  differing  in  language  and 
tribal  customs  from  all  the  others,  all  warrior  races  per- 
petually battling  with  each  other  until  brought  under 
measurable  discipline  by  British  authority,  the  most 
powerful  the  Kikuyu,  the  Masai,  and  the  Wakamba. 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

And  yet  this  vast  new  apanage  of  the  Empire  is  oc- 
cupied and  held  for  the  Crown  by  a  numerically  puny 
handful  of  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  Englishmen! 

This  includes  the  Governor  and  his  staff,  the  various 
administrative  departments,  the  military  and  police 
departments  —  in  fact,  the  entire  civil  list  of  the  Pro- 
tectorate, except  the  Post,  Telegraph,  and  Railway 
Departments. 

Troops?  No  troops?  Oh,  yes;  but  what?  A  few 
companies  of  East  Indian  Sikh  infantry,  doing  police 
duty  along  the  Uganda  Railway,  and  two  battalions  of 
native  Soudanese  and  Nubian  Askaris!  That  is  all! 

And  of  this  little  group  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  white 
men  charged  with  the  task  of  holding  four  million  raw, 
savage  blacks  in  check,  nearly  four-fifths  are  stationed  at 
Mombasa,  Nairobi,  Kisumu,  and  other  railway  points, 
while  the  outlying  districts  are  held  by  a  scant  sixty  men, 
posted  in  little  bomas  (garrisons)  scattered  along  the 
coast  and  parallel  to  and  never  more  than  seventy- 
five  miles  from  the  Uganda  Railway,  divided  up  into 
"bunches"  of  three,  two,  or  often  no  more  than  one 
white  man  to  each  boma,  often  remote  from  support, 
never  with  more  than  a  handful  of  native  troops  under 
their  command! 

It  is  a  distinctly  sporting  proposition  in  government, 
is  that  of  British  East  Africa,  with  every  man  in  the  game 
playing  against  what  would  appear  superficially  to  be, 
and  what  may  at  any  time  become  in  cruel  fact,  hopelessly 
overwhelming  odds.  And  yet  one  never  hears  a  hint  of 
a  thought  of  anything  of  the  sort  from  the  men  themselves. 
Quietly,  coolly,  and  usually  most  efficiently  are  they 
doing  their  work.  "Playing  the  game,"  they  themselves 


- 


PREFACE  ix 

would  call  it,  in  ultra-British  idiom  —  and  playing  it 
in  a  way  to  make  a  man  proud  to  claim  racial  kinship 
with  them. 

Four  years  ago  there  were  not  as  many  as  a  dozen 
white  farmers  in  the  Protectorate.  Now  the  white  popula- 
tion has  risen  to  a  total,  including  all  officials,  of  perhaps 
1,200,  and  of  these  550  are  resident  in  Nairobi,  the  capital. 

Settlement,  trade,  sport,  and  travel  are  rigidly  re- 
stricted, by  the  Outlying  Districts  Ordinance,  to  the  nar- 
row policed  belt  lying  along  the  railway,  entirely  within 
the  outer  lines  of  boma  outposts.  Entry  into  the  vast 
areas  comprising  the  "Closed  Territory"  lying  to  the 
north  and  south  of  the  "open  districts,"  without  a  special 
permit  therefor  from  the  Governor,  is  a  penal  offence. 
And  very  rarely  are  such  passes  issued  —  for  fear  any 
holding  them  may  in  some  way  incite  or  become  the 
victims  of  voluntary  aggression  by  the  shenzi  (savages), 
and  thus  cause  disturbances  the  slender  forces  of  the  Pro- 
tectorate might  easily  prove  wholly  inadequate  to  handle. 

It  was  for  me,  therefore,  a  stroke  of  rare  good  luck, 
for  which  I  shall  always  feel  deeply  indebted  to  him,  when 
Lieut.-Governor  the  Hon.  F.  J.  Jackson,  C.  B.,  C.  M.  G., 
consented  to  issue  me  a  pass  for  entering  certain  "  Closed 
Territory,"  that  enabled  me  to  make  a  three  months' 
safari  through  the  countries  of  the  Loita  Masai,  the 
Wanderobo,  the  Kavirondo,  the  Kisii,  the  Sotik,  and  the 
Lumbwa,  the  more  for  that  both  the  Sotik  and  the  Kisii 
had  been  in  open,  bloody  revolt  only  a  few  months  before 
the  date  of  my  pass. 

Lying  midway  between  the  two  old  Arab  caravan  routes 
from  the  coast  to  Victoria  Nyanza,  one  starting  from 
Mombasa  and  the  other  from  Tanga,  in  what  is  now 


x  PREFACE 

German  territory,  most  of  the  country  I  traversed  under 
the  pass  still  remains  unmapped.  It  had  never  before  been 
entered  by  white  men  save  by  the  Anglo- German  Boun- 
dary Commission,  whose  work  of  locating  and  marking 
the  boundary  line  between  British  and  German  East 
Africa  had  been  finished  roughly  four  years  earlier,  and 
six  months  earlier  by  the  man  I  was  fortunate  enough 
to  secure  as  a  mate  for  the  trip,  George  H.  Outram,  him- 
self formerly  a  Government  official  and  a  member  of  the 
Boundary  Survey  party  of  1894. 

E.  B.  B. 
NEW  YORK  CITY, 
January  I, 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  story  of  the  big  game  of  Africa  has  been  many 
a  year  in  the  telling,  but  it  remains  ever  new.  The 
freshness  of  it  is  perennial.  To  a  lover  of  the 
physical  aspects  of  nature,  the  book  of  the  average 
African  hunter  contains  such  a  wealth  of  wild-animal 
hunting  adventures  that  the  physical  geography  and  the 
plant  life  suffer  from  lack  of  attention.  It  is  not  strange 
that  in  his  effort  to  portray  the  marvellous  abundance  of 
wild-animal  life  in  the  most  richly  stocked  game  fields  on 
earth,  the  landscapes,  trees,  and  plants  seem  to  the  hunt- 
er like  "trifles  light  as  air." 

I  am  glad  of  this  opportunity  to  urge  upon  my  brother 
sportsmen  the  assurance  that  he  who  devotes  all  his  atten- 
tion to  the  game  and  its  pursuit,  and  ignores  the  remainder 
of  Nature's  open  books  of  wild  places,  necessarily  loses 
much  that  rightfully  is  his.  It  is  not  all  of  hunting  to 
kill  game.  I  would  rather  find  a  few  animals  amid 
grand  or  beautiful  scenery  than  many  animals  in  dull 
places.  To  every  wild  creature  on  earth,  Nature  has 
given  its  own  special  and  appropriate  stage  setting,  of 
rock  and  tree,  or  of  field  and  stream.  At  least  one-half 
the  time  the  accessories  are,  to  the  comprehending  eye, 
as  interesting  as  the  animal  itself. 

So  long  as  the  big  game  of  Africa  holds  its  own  upon 
the  veldt,  just  so  long  will  the  public  welcome  new  books 
that  strive  to  portray  its  moods  and  its  tenses.  I  hold  it 

a 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

to  be  the  duty  of  every  right-minded  gentleman-sportsman, 
who  shoots  wisely  and  not  too  much,  to  publish  an  account 
of  his  observations,  no  matter  whether  he  includes  his 
shooting  records  or  not.  From  such  dreadful  tales  of 
sordid  slaughter  as  those  of  Neumann,  the  ivory-hunter, 
all  people  who  care  for  the  beasts  of  the  field  may  well 
pray  to  be  spared. 

Mr.  Bronson's  story  is  very  much  to  my  mind;  and 
on  hearing  that  it  was  to  appear  in  permanent  form,  I 
was  heartily  glad.  Through  the  chapters  previously 
published  I  had  followed  him  with  interest  and  delight. 
He  gratifies  my  desire  to  know  the  on-the-spot  impressions 
of  the  explorer  and  hunter;  for  it  is  this  personal  equation 
that  always  brings  the  reader  in  closest  touch  with  the 
hunter  and  his  surroundings.  His  careful  and  clear 
descriptions  of  landscapes  and  the  component  parts  of 
his  African  geography  are  delightful;  and  his  frequent 
touches  of  humor,  —  phenomenally  rare  in  books  on 
Africa,  —  are  most  welcome  exceptions  to  the  African 
rule.  Surely,  a  story  of  the  Dark  Continent  need  not 
by  necessity  be  sombre. 

In  perusing  this  and  other  recent  tales  of  the  great 
game  herds  of  the  East  African  plains,  the  reader  natur- 
ally asks  the  question,  What  has  the  future  in  store  for 
the  game?  Will  the  onslaughts  of  sportsmen  and  res- 
idents soon  reach  such  a  point  of  frequency  that  the  game 
will  be  killed  more  rapidly  than  it  breeds? 

It  is  upon  the  answer  to  this  last  question  that  the 
future  of  the  big  game  depends.  As  a  rule,  it  is  not  by 
any  means  the  gentlemen-sportsmen,  taking  a  modest 
toll  of  the  wilds,  who  exterminate  the  game.  In  the  first 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

place,  they  are  easily  checked  and  regulated ;  for  all  their 
acts  are  known.  In  about  ninety  per  cent  of  all  the 
extermination  cases  that  are  fully  known,  the  commercial 
hunters,  and  the  resident  hunters  who  kill  game  all  the 
year  round,  are  the  real  exterminators.  I  think  that  in 
most  localities  one  case-hardened  resident  who  is  deter- 
mined to  live  on  the  country  can  be  counted  upon  to 
destroy  more  animal  life  each  year  than  five  average 
sportsmen  who  visit  the  same  territory  for  brief  periods. 

In  those  portions  of  the  East  African  plateau  region 
that  are  suited  to  agriculture,  stretching  from  Bulawayo 
to  Uganda,  the  wild  herds  are  bound  to  be  crowded  out 
by  the  farmer  and  the  fruit-grower.  This  is  the  in- 
evitable result  of  civilization  and  progress  in  wild  lands. 
Marauding  herds  of  zebras,  bellicose  rhinoceroses, 
and  murderous  buffaloes  do  not  fit  in  with  ranches  and 
crops,  and  children  going  to  school.  Except  in  the 
great  game  preserves,  I  think  that  the  big  game  of  British 
East  Africa  is  foredoomed  to  disappear,  the  largest 
species  first. 

Five  hundred  years  from  now,  when  North  America 
is  worn  out,  and  wasted  to  a  skeleton  of  what  it  now  is, 
the  great  plateau  region  of  East  Africa  between  Cape 
Town  and  Lake  Rudolph  will  be  a  mighty  empire,  teem- 
ing with  white  population.  Giraffes  and  rhinoceroses 
are  now  trampling  over  the  sites  of  future  cities  and 
universities.  Then  the  game  herds,  outside  of  the  pre- 
serves, will  exist  only  in  memory,  and  in  the  pages  of  such 
books  as  "In  Closed  Territory"  by  Bronson,  and  in 
other  books  by  hunters  who  shoot  for  themselves  and 
write  for  the  pleasure  of  their  friends.  For  myself,  I  am 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

glad  that  I  live  in  the  days  of  big  game,  in  Africa  and 
elsewhere;  and  as  a  natural  corollary  to  a  sportsman's 
life,  A.  D.  1910,  it  is  his  solemn  duty  to  do  his  level 
best  to  insure  that  a  good  supply  of  wild  life  is  left  for 
the  sportsmen  of  2010. 

W.  T.  HORNADAY. 

NEW  YORK,  January  15,  1910. 


CONTENTS 

PAOE 

I.  THROUGH    PATHLESS  DESERT  i 

II.  OLD  JUNGLE  WARRIORS  AT  BAY     ....      14 

III.  KUDU,  COBRA,  WILD  DOG,  AND  ELAND  ...      32 

IV.  SEEN  FROM  A  RHINO'S  BED    .         .         .  .44 
V.  FICKLE  EQUATORIAL  FASHIONS        .        .        .        '57 

VI.  ALONG  UNMAPPED  NILE  SOURCES  ....      75 

VII.  SURROUNDED  BY  WILD  ELEPHANT  ....      93 

VIII.  "CLOSE  THING,  THAT,  RIGHT -On!"     .        .        .113 

IX.  A  HIDEOUS  OLD  HAUNTER 127 

X.  IN  THE  TALL  GRASS  TUSKERS  LOVE      .        .        .142 

XI.  A  MIGHTY  SPEAR  THRUST 165 

XII.  POTTING  A  PYTHON       .         .....     177 

XIII.  THE  LUCK  OF  THE  GAME 195 

XIV.  Is  CENTRAL  AFRICA  A  WHITE  MAN'S  COUNTRY?     .     209 
XV.  RUBBERING  IN  UGANDA 230 

XVI.    THE  HAZARDS  OF  THE  GAME         ....     254 
INDEX 285 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

THE  AUTHOR  —  A  HALT  IN  MABIRA  FOREST    .         .         .          Frontispiece 

THE  AUTHOR'S  PASS  TO  ENTER  "CLOSED  TERRITORY"      .        .        .  viii 

OUTLINE  MAP  SHOWING  BRITISH  EAST  AFRICA          .         .         .         .  •  a 
WAKAMBA    CHICKEN    PEDLERS    AND    KIKUYU    POSHO    SELLERS    AT 

JUJA  STORE  (HADJI  ALI  IN  WHITE) 4 

THE  SOMALI  STAFF,  JUJA  FARM       .......  4 

THE  START  OF  THE  SAFARI  AFTER  A  REST       .....  5 

"BRIDGE"  ON  GOVERNMENT  ROAD,  LUMBWA  TO  KERICHO         .         .  5 

TOPI  BULL  HIT  BETWEEN  EYES  AT  450  YARDS  10 

TYPICAL  KIKUYU  WARRIOR      ........  n 

KILIMA    N'JARO  GIRAFFE,    THE    FIRST    SPECIMEN    OF    THE    SPECIES 

TO  BE  BROUGHT  TO  THE  UNITED  STATES 16 

THE  AUTHOR  AND  WILL  JUDD  AND  THE  Two  BUFFALO  BULLS          .  16 
CROSSING  LAKE  MAGADI          .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .17 

BETWEEN  MAGADI  AND  THE  MARA  .......  26 

A  GOOD  PLACE  FOR  HIPPO .26 

AN  OLD  VELDT  MONARCH       ........  37 

LESSER  KUDU  BULL 34 

CAMP  AMONG  CANDELABRUM  CACTI 35 

ON  THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  MAU 35 

ELAND  BULL  SHOT  BY  THE  AUTHOR         ......  40 

WANDEROBO  BOWMEN 41 

WANDEROBO  WARRIORS    .........  41 

AMONG  THE  LOITA  MASAI        ........  46 

LENDERUT  RIVER  CASCADE      ........  47 

LENDERUT  RIVER  BELOW  CASCADE  .......  47 

KOYDELOT,    MASAI    WITCH    DOCTOR,    SMOKING    HIS    FIRST    CIGAR: 

His  SON  AND  BROTHER  BESIDE  HIM .66 

A  MASAI  BEAU  AND  BELLE:  CHIEF  KOYDELOT  SEATED     ...  66 

MASAI  BOWMEN .  67 

WAKAMBA  WARRIOR         .........  72 

MARA    RIVER    CAMP    AFTER    A    BIG    Knx:    PORTERS'    FIRES    SUR- 
ROUNDED WITH  ROASTING  MEAT -73 

ON  ELEPHANT  SPOOR  IN  OYANI  RIVER  BASIN,  HABIA  LEADING         .  78 
SOME    OF    TORONI'S    WIVES    SINGING    BEFORE   THE    TENT,    AND    A 

PATIENT  AWAITING  "DAWA" 78 

KAVTRONDO  SLEEPING  SICKNESS  VICTIMS 79 

KAVIRONDO  BELLES 79 

xvii 


xviii  ILLUSTRATIONS— Continued 

PAGE 

THE   VONGONIA  OR    "SAUSAGE"    TREE:    WITH   THE   RIND   OF   THE 

FRUIT  NATIVE  HONEY  BEER  is  FERMENTED        ....  86 

KAVIRONDO  WAR  DANCE 87 

"His  OSTRICH  PLUMES"  AND  A  KAVIRONDO  WARRIOR      ...  87 

TORONI,  MASAI  CHIEF,  AND  A  FEW  MEMBERS  or  HIS  FAMILY  .         .  94 

WATER  BUCK  SHOT  AT  LOOSEANDGIDDY  CAMP  .....  95 
FOLLOWING  BUFFALO  SPOOR     .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .no 

OUTRAM  AND  WOUNDED   ANTELOPE   CAUGHT  BY   PUGGE       .  .  .no 

ZEBRA  STALLION,  LYING  AS  HE  FELL  TO  THE  AUTHOR'S  GUN  .         .m 

TROPHIES,  IN  RONGANA  CAMP 114 

PORTRAIT  OF  JOHN  ALFRED  JORDAN 115 

MATAIA  AND  HIS  NEW  WIFE,  IN  FRONT  OF  HIS  HOUSE     .         .         .128 

MATAIA  AND  FOUR  WANDEROBO 128 

ENTERING  RONGANA  BUSH  ON  RHINO  SPOOR 129 

GEORGE  H.  OUTRAM,  MATAIA,  PUGGE,  AND  WANDEROBO  HUNTERS    .     144 
ARAB  TUMO  (LUMBWA)  CLIMBING  TREE  TO  LOOK  FOR  ELEPHANT      .     145 

RESTING  AFTER  THE  ELEPHANT  KILL 156 

NATIVES  AWAITING  INVITATION  TO  ELEPHANT  FEAST         .        .         -157 

RESTING  ON  AN  ELEPHANT'S  FOOT 157 

WATCHING  THE  GATHERING  VULTURES  AND  MARABOUTS    .         .         .160 
THE    AUTHOR    AND    JOHN    ALFRED    JORDAN    IN    RONGANA    CAMP 

AFTER  THE  ELEPHANT   KlLL l6l 

THE    AUTHOR   AND   HIS   Two   SHIKARIS   IN   SOMALI    FULL    DRESS, 

HASSAN  YUSEF  ON  RIGHT,  AWALA  NUER  ON  LEFT     .         .         .182 

MOST  ANCIENT  WAKAMBA  DANCE 183 

JUJA'S  BOER  TREK  WAGON:  THOMPSON:  GAZELLE  AT  RIGHT    .         .186 

A  FEW  FLIES  ON  THEM  (LOITA  MASAI) 187 

KONGONI    (HARTEBEESTE)    BULL,    THE    AUTHOR,    HASSAN    YUSEF, 

AND  THE  PONTES  WALLEYE  AND  LONG  TOM       .        .        .        .190 

GRANTI  GAZELLE 190 

ELEVEN   FOOT,    EIGHT   INCH    LION    KILLED   BY   W.    MARLOW   ON 

THE   KOMO  ........  r  .       191 

WATER   PYTHON,   SEVENTEEN   FEET,   FOUR   INCHES    LONG,   KILLED 

NEAR  JUJA  FARM 191 

CLIFFORD   AND   HAROLD   HILL,    AND   THE   TREE   PLATFORM    OVER- 
LOOKING THEIR  BOMA 198 

THE  APPROACH  TO  DONGA  BUSH  ON  FRESH  LION  SPOOR          .         .199 
ON  THE  KAPITI  PLAINS  WITH  THE  HILLS'  LION  TRACKERS        .        .     199 
THE  AUTHOR'S  FAREWELL  TO   JUJA  HOUSE.     (THE  FAMOUS  TEAM 
OF  WHITE  ABYSSINIAN  MULES,  AT  MR.   ROOSEVELT'S   SERVICE 

WHILE  AT  JUJA.) .     202 

WILLIAM  NORTHRUP  MCMILLAN'S  NAIROBI  BUNGALOW      .        .         .203 
MOHAMMEDAN  MOSQUE,  NAIROBI     .......     203 

OPENING  OF  THE  FIRST  UGANDA  EXPOSITION:    ENGLISH    CATHEDRAL 
IN  DISTANCE  212 


ILLUSTRATIONS— Continued  xix 

PAGE 

THE  KAMPALA  MERRY-GO-ROUND      .        .        .        .        .        .         .212 

GOVERNOR  BELL  AND  STAFF  ARRIVING  AT  FIRST  UGANDA  EXPOSITION  213 
THE  EXPOSITION  OPENED  BY  GOVERNOR  BELL:  KING  OF  ANKOLE, 

THE  GIANT  FIGURE  ON  LEFT    .......     213 

DETAIL  MAP  OF  B.  E.  A.,  SHOWING  "CLOSED  TERRITORY"  AND 

ROUTE  OF  AUTHOR'S  LONG  SAFARI    ...  .         .     218 

WAKAMBA  WITCH  DOCTORS       .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .222 

YOUNG  WAKAMBA  WARRIORS  LINED  UP  SINGING  AND  WAITING  FOR 

GIRLS  TO  SELECT  PARTNERS       .......     223 

THE  DANCE  AFTER  PARTNERS  WERE  SELECTED         .         .         .         .223 

"BWANA  MARTINI"  —  JAMES  MARTIN      .         .         .         .         .         .232 

THE  WAR  CANOE  LEAVING  JINJA  FOR  BOGONGO       ....     233 

RIPON  FALLS,  VIEWED  FROM  THE  EAST    ......     233 

TAPPING  RUBBER  TREE  IN  MABIRA  FOREST      .....     240 

JAMES  MARTIN  AND  HIS  RUBBER  TAPPING  TOOLS     .         .         .         .241 

"CREPE"  RUBBER  JUST  OUT  OF  THE  ROLL  PRESS    ....     241 

BAGANDA  DANCERS  ..........     244 

VISITING  CHIEF  AT  MABIRA  FACTORY,  HIS  STAFF  AND  BAND     .         .     245 
WOUNDED  WILDEBEESTE  BULL         .......     264 

IMPALA  BUCK  SHOT  AT  600  YARDS  .......     264 

MRS.  DUIRS  AND  JlMMIE  DUIRS,  AND  LlON  SHOT  BY  CAPT.  A.  B. 

DUIRS  AT  30  YARDS  .........     265 

ANGUS  MADDEN,  CHIEF  OF  POLICE,  AT  KERICHO  BOMA  .  .  .268 
THE  AUTHOR'S  FAREWELL  TO  HIS  KERICHO  HOSTS  ....  268 

UGANDA  RAILWAY  TRAIN 269 

SOME  OF  THE  AUTHOR'S  HEAD  AND  SKIN  TROPHIES  FROM  "CLOSED 

TERRITORY" 278 

MORE  OF  THE  TROPHIES 279 


IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 


i 

THROUGH  PATHLESS  DESERT 

MY  safari  (caravan)  was  organized  at  Juja  Farm 
early  in  December,  1908.  George  Henry  Outram, 
an  old  Australian  prospector  of  wide  experience, 
a  veteran  of  Coolgardie,  of  Kimberley  and  Johannesburg, 
had  recently  come  in  from  a  prospecting  trip  in  the 
ranges  lying  between  the  Mau  and  Kisii  Escarpments, 
close  to  the  German  border,  from  which  he  brought 
back  fine  specimens  of  copper,  graphite,  and  other  ores, 
and  stories  of  lion,  elephant,  and  rhino  so  thick  and 
troublesome  they  left  him  scarcely  half  his  time  for  work. 
The  ore  was  in  itself  a  potent  lure,  and  the  added  tempta- 
tion of  a  chance  of  two  or  three  months  in  a  country  still 
unoccupied  save  by  wandering  Wanderobo  hunters,  and 
known  only  to  perhaps  a  half-dozen  white  men,  teeming 
with  the  best  specimens  of  many  types  of  central  plateau 
big  game  extinct  in  most  other  sections  and  rare  in  all, 
quickly  decided  me  to  go  with  him  to  his  new  diggings. 

Our  third  mate  on  the  trip  was  William  Judd,  prob- 
ably the  most  experienced  and  capable  hunter  of  African 
big  game  now  living,  a  man  who  hunts  to  get  his  own  best 
loved  fun  when  no  chance  offers  to  go  out  professionally 
as  safari  leader  for  visiting  sportsmen,  a  man  who  has 


2  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

shot  from  the  Pungwe  River,  in  far  southern  Portuguese 
East,  all  the  way  north  to  Abyssinia,  and  to  whose  rifle 
have  fallen  one  hundred  and  fifty  elephant  and  more 
lion,  rhino,  and  big  game  of  all  kinds,  than  he  has  been 
able  to  keep  count  of. 

Indeed,  the  trio  of  us  made  a  rather  strong  "three  of 
a  kind,"  perhaps  not  so  very  far  below  aces,  for  each  was 
pretty  well  trained  to  a  finish  in  every  sort  of  wild-life 
hardship,  and  had  a  few  laughs  up  his  sleeve  for  any  and 
all  difficulties  that  might  be  handed  us. 

The  "staff"  consisted  of  Regal  Wassama,  William 
Northrup  McMillan's  head  cook,  a  splendid  old  Somali, 
wiry  and  active  as  a  youth,  with  the  keen  eye  and  dignity  of 
an  Arab  chief  and  the  culinary  skill  of  the  best  French 
chef,  who,  barring  the  time  devoutly  spent  in  saying  his 
five  long  daily  prayers,  gazing  and  genuflexing  towards 
Mecca,  was  unremitting  in  his  care  of  us;  Awala  Nuer, 
a  slender,  middle-aged  Somali  shikari,  whose  one  good 
eye  was  ever  picking  up  game  before  mine  had  noted  it ; 
my  own  boy  Salem,  a  Swahili,  so  constantly  thoughtful 
of  my  every  want  and  so  alert  to  fill  it,  that  but  for  his  sex 
I  would  back  him  to  make  the  best  conceivable  high 
ideal  of  a  wife ;  and  Molo,  a  Herculean,  shaven-crowned 
Kavirondo  table  boy  who,  while  trying  his  best  to  please, 
was  ever  chucking  plates  and  knives  and  forks  about  as 
he  was  trained  to  hurl  the  assegai  and  knob-kerri  he  was 
carrying  when  I  had  first  seen  him,  a  few  months  before. 

To  carry  our  camp  kit,  supplies,  and  general  outfit, 
for  a  three  months'  trip  required  seventy  wapagazi  (por- 
ters), all  of  whom  were  picked  from  the  farm  forces, 
thirty-five  stalwart  Unyamwezi  and  Kavirondo,  all  trained 
men,  unflinching  on  a  trek,  and  thirty-five  raw  shenzi 


EGYPT 


FRENCH 
CONGO. 


SOUTH    ATLANTIC 
OCEAN 


*BiN 

^ 


PROTEC 


GERMAN 

EAST 
AFRICA 


INDIAN 
OCEAN 


OUTLINE    MAP 
SHOWING 

BRITISH 
EAST  AFRICA 


GERMAN 
.  SOUTHWEST 
AFRICA 


,<& 


THROUGH   PATHLESS  DESERT        3 

(savage)  Kikuyu,  the  former  good  for  sixty  pounds  to  the 
man,  the  latter  for  no  more  than  forty  pounds. 

At  daylight  of  December  9,  Outram  started  for  Nairobi 
with  the  safari,  which  also  included  seven  little  Abyssin- 
ian mules  for  our  own  use,  and  twenty-two  donkeys  to 
pack  native  food,  chiefly  beans  and  corn  posho  for  the 
watagazi,  for  the  country  to  which  we  were  going  was 
devoid  of  any  form  of  native  food  except  the  meat  of 
wild  game,  which  Kikuyu  do  not  eat. 

But  the  season  was  that  of  the  "little  rains,"  which  at 
the  moment  happened  to  be  a  steady  all-day  downpour 
that  turned  the  Athi  Plains  into  a  sticky  marsh  and  com- 
pelled camping  short  of  town.  When  morning  came, 
Outram  found  that  the  Kikuyu,  always  faint-hearted, 
had  bunked  to  a  man,  timid  of  a  long  trek  away  from 
their  own  country  or  sick  of  the  weather. 

To  our  disgust  we  found  Nairobi  stripped  of  fit  por- 
ters by  the  thirty  safari  outfits  sent  out  in  November, 
so  that  we  were  compelled  to  take  on  another  lot  of  Kikuyu 
to  fill  the  places  of  the  deserters,  —  and  to  get  them  de- 
layed us  till  the  twelfth. 

And  the  first  day's  march  was  quite  enough  to  stop 
and  turn  back  any  but  an  old-timer  or  the  warmest  of 
raw  enthusiasts,  for  throughout  the  day  rain  poured  in 
torrents,  turning  the  alternating  bush  and  rich  meadow 
lands  of  the  Kikuyu  hills  into  fields  of  sticky  mud  nigh 
impossible  for  our  porters  to  travel  in.  Thus  at  the  end 
of  seven  hours  our  men  were  dead  beat,  —  and  still  we 
were  out  only  nine  miles  from  Nairobi.  However,  safari 
life  in  Africa  is  the  best  possible  post-graduate  course  in 
patience,  and  this  was  only  a  hint  of  probably  a  lot  more 
annoying  delays  ahead,  so  we  made  the  best  of  it,  hastily 


4  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

pitched  our  tents  on  the  Ambagathi  River,  and  huddled 
into  them. 

The  next  day  the  rainfall  continued  so  heavy  we  de- 
cided it  would  be  folly  to  try  to  move  except  for  a  half- 
mile  plod  through  the  mud  in  the  afternoon  for  tea  with 
Lord  Cardross,  whose  farm  is  the  outermost  one  south 
from  Nairobi. 

On  the  fourteenth  the  weather  cleared  sufficiently  to 
enable  us  to  move  at  daylight.  At  7 130  A.  M.  I  made  an 
almost  unpardonably  early  call  on  District  Commissioner 
McClure  and  his  charming  wife,  who  from  his  Southern 
Masai  Reserve  Boma  rules  a  district  nearly  as  large 
as  New  England,  with  thousands  of  wild  Masai  and 
Wanderobo,  the  ancient  lords  of  the  domain,  who  still 
remain  practically  its  only  tenants,  —  rules  it,  punishes 
its  marauding  raiders,  and  checks  its  savage  feuds  with 
no  help  but  his  own  nerve  and  wits,  a  scant  half-hundred 
native  police,  and  the  ominous  spectre  of  British  Imperial 
authority.  Indeed,  that  very  morning  of  my  call  he  was 
just  starting  out  on  a  punitive  trek  after  a  band  of  Lenani's 
Southern  Masai,  who  the  day  before  had  raided  a  neigh- 
boring Kikuyu  kraal,  killed  a  number  of  Kikuyu  warriors, 
and  looted  two  hundred  and  seventy-eight  cattle. 

Here  at  Mr.  McClure's  boma,  a  scant  twelve  miles 
from  Nairobi,  we  left  civilization  behind  us, —  for  one 
might  travel  straight  away  a  full  thousand  miles  to  the 
south  without  finding  any  white  man's  habitation, —  and 
entered  the  great  Ukamba  Game  Reserve,  which  for  its 
western  half  is  also  the  home  of  the  Southern  Masai. 

Early  in  the  morning  we  crossed  the  west  shoulder  of 
the  Ngong  range  at  an  altitude  of  6,500  feet,  and  then 
began  a  rapid  descent  from  the  cool  verdurous  central 


\\AKAMBA  CHICKEN   PEDLERS   AND  KIKUYU   POSHO   SELLERS   AT  JUJA  STORE 
(HADJI  ALI  IN  WHITE) 

THE  SOMALI  STAFF,  JUJA  FARM 


n 


THROUGH   PATHLESS  DESERT         5 

plateau  to  the  arid,  volcanic  wastes  to  the  southwest, 
camping  at  Ngong  Spring,  a  feeble  trickle  of  sweet  water 
that  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  its  birth  disappeared 
in  the  burning  sands  of  a  deep,  yellow-grassed,  rocky 
gorge.  Here  at  this  spring  we  met  scores  of  practically 
naked  Kikuyu  porters,  men  and  women,  loaded  with  three- 
foot  cakes  of  carbonate  of  soda  from  the  vast  natural 
deposits  of  this  salt  in  Lake  Magadi,  for  the  development 
of  which  a  ninety-mile  railway  is  planned  if  the  samples 
then  coming  out  prove  satisfactory. 

The  meeting  of  these  Kikuyu  coming  up  out  of  the 
south  augured  ill  for  our  journey,  for  between  Ngong 
Spring  and  the  Guaso  Nyiro  River,  sixty-four  miles  to 
the  south,  there  is  not  a  drop  of  living  water.  For  this 
five  days'  ordinary  safari  marching,  the  trail  traverses  a 
horrid  arid  country  hot  as  Death  Valley,  isolated  black 
volcanic  uplifts  rearing  here  and  there  high  into  the  sky 
their  rugged,  grassless  slopes,  the  plains  everywhere  strewn 
so  thick  with  sharp  fragments  of  volcanic  rock  the  traveller 
rarely  has  a  chance  to  set  foot  upon  soil,  while  the  thin 
growth  of  grass  and  thorny  scrub  on  the  levels  and  lower 
hill  slopes  is  for  nine  months  of  the  year  burned  gray 
as  ashes  and  brittle  as  straw  by  the  fierce  equatorial  sun 
blazing  twelve  hours  a  day  out  of  a  cloudless  sky,  and 
making  the  volcanic  rubble  so  hot  one  can  hardly  hold 
a  hand  on  it  for  a  second.  Indeed,  the  route  from 
Ngong  to  Magadi  is  only  possible  after  the  season  of  the 
big  rains  of  the  early  spring  months  or  after  occasional 
heavy  intermittent  showers,  when,  at  four  points  on  the 
way,  natural  tanks  worn  by  the  brief  torrential  down- 
pours in  the  iron-hard  volcanic  rock  are  filled  and  afford 
a  supply  of  fairly  pure  water  until  evaporation,  occasional 


6  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

soda  porters,  and  the  nomadic  Masai  herdsmen  and  their 
flocks  have  exhausted  it. 

Hidden  in  rocky,  trackless  gorges  or  on  the  very  edge 
of  lofty  escarpments,  the  position  of  these  tanks  remains 
to  this  day  unknown  to  more  than  half  a  dozen  white  men, 
but  luckily  for  us,  we  had  with  us  in  Outram  the  first 
white  man  to  find  these  natural  tanks,  when,  attempting 
a  trek  across  this  country  with  a  section  of  the  Anglo- 
German  Boundary  Survey  Commission,  five  years  before, 
he  had  been  forced  to  find  water  or  perish. 

So,  doubtful  if  we  should  find  any  water  short  of  the 
Guaso  Nyiro,  and  taking  our  chance  of  a  complete  wreck 
of  our  safari  in  the  next  two  days,  we  bore  away  into  the 
south  at  dawn  of  the  fifteenth. 

Within  the  first  hour  and  a  half  we  dropped  two 
thousand  feet  —  from  5,400  to  3,400,  —  and  it  really 
seemed  that  with  every  foot  of  drop  in  altitude  there  was 
a  rise  of  a  degree  in  temperature. 

But  in  the  matter  of  water  we  were  lucky.  Seven 
miles  out  we  found  a  tank  with  just  barely  enough  left 
to  freshen  up  our  porters,  mules,  and  donkeys,  and 
twelve  miles  farther  on,  the  head  of  the  safari  at  two 
o'clock  reached  the  "Big  Water  Holes,"  but  only  after 
a  march  across  a  lava-strewn  plain  that  seemed  absolutely 
molten  with  heat.  There  we  found  an  abundance  of 
water  in  three  huge  natural  tanks  forty  to  fifty  feet  deep 
and  one  hundred  feet  in  diameter,  that  looked  like  min- 
iature amphitheatres  of  some  pigmy  race,  buttressed 
without  with  tall  basalt  columns,  terraced  within  by 
varying  stages  of  water-level  erosion  —  the  level  then  very 
low,  no  more  than  four  feet  at  the  deepest. 

Muddy  the  water  was,  to  be  sure,  and,  worse,  thick 


THROUGH   PATHLESS  DESERT        7 

with  the  wash  of  the  gulch  above  it,  the  higher  crevices 
of  the  tanks  incrusted  with  dry  donkey  dung  washed 
down  from  soda  caravan  camps,  and  representing  earlier 
high- water  levels;  but  if  not  luxury,  it  meant  life  to  us 
literally,  for  not  a  third  of  our  porters  would  have  reached 
camp  but  for  the  water  we  were  here  able  to  send  back  to 
them.  And  even  at  that  the  tough  native  porters  came 
crawling  in  with  feet,  indurated  nearly  to  hoof  hardness, 
blistered,  cracked,  and  bleeding  from  all-day  plodding 
over  the  ragged,  burning  rocks,  an  utterly  wretched, 
suffering,  exhausted  lot  that  made  me  wish  I  had  never 
heard  of  a  safari. 

But  the  two  old-timers  with  me  took  it  as  a  matter  of 
course  and  ministered  as  best  they  could  to  the  real 
sufferers,  and  then  kept  me  roaring  over  their  weird 
prescriptions  for  the  shammers,  one  of  whom  was  forced 
to  take  a  strong  whiff  of  an  ammonia  bottle,  while  another 
was  given  a  mixture  of  pepper,  salt,  and  a  spoonful  of 
oil  from  a  sardine  tin,  and  within  half  an  hour  each  vowed 
he  was  cured  of  all  that  hurt  him,  whatever  it  was. 

At  sunset  the  three  of  us  strolled  down  to  the  tanks 
for  a  bath.  Our  boys  brought  us  buckets  of  water,  and 
each  selected  and  retired  to  a  niche  in  the  face  of  the  cliff, 
which  just  below  the  tanks  fell  away  a  sheer  seventy  feet, 
disrobed,  and  got  busy  with  his  sponge,  to  the  immense 
entertainment,  apparently,  of  a  tribe  of  blue  monkeys 
that  sat  on  high  pinnacles  about  us,  chattering  madly 
over  our  droll  doings. 

Obviously  another  midday  journey  in  the  infernal 
heat  would  completely  cripple  half  our  men,  so  the  morn- 
ing of  the  sixteenth  we  broke  camp  at  2:30  A.  M,  and 
with  no  better  light  than  a  moon  well  along  in  its  last 


8  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

quarter,  marched  away  through  thorn  scrub,  up  and  down 
rocky  hills  almost  impassable  in  daylight,  but  safely  and 
truly  piloted  by  the  indomitable,  never-hesitating  Outram. 
About  4  A.  M.  we  jumped  three  rhino,  that  in  the  dusk 
loomed  up  black  giants  twice  their  natural  vast  bulk, 
but,  luckily  for  our  porters,  they  scampered  away,  for 
it  was  far  too  dark  to  see  a  gunsight. 

By  8  A.  M.  Outram  led  us  up  and  across  a  lofty  range, 
whence  to  the  west  opened  such  a  magnificent  view  as 
I  have  never  before  seen  of  volcanic  action  on  colossal 
scale.  West  of  us,  and  as  far  as  eye  could  reach  to  north 
and  south,  extended  a  series  of  six  vast  lava  ridges  or 
terraces,  one  rising  behind  the  other,  with  valleys  from 
five  to  fifteen  miles  wide  between  them,  terraces  approxi- 
mately level  of  top,  perpendicular  of  face,  with  scarce 
any  points  of  access  to  their  summits,  black  or  dull  red 
of  color,  the  nearest  and  lowest  probably  1,200  feet  high, 
the  others  ranging  to  the  rear  and  rising  higher  and  higher, 
up  to  probably  3,000  or  4,000  feet.  Like  gigantic  steps 
they  rose  to  the  lofty  summit  of  the  great  Mau  Escarp- 
ment, from  which  they  appeared  to  have  been  rent  away 
and  dropped  to  lower  levels,  the  intervening  valleys 
representing  tremendous  sinks  of  surface  caused  by  some 
frightful  terrestrial  convulsion  that  must  have  shaken  this 
continent  from  end  to  end,  and  so  fractured  and  crushed 
the  old  underlying  formations  that  throughout  British 
and  German  East  Africa  living  streams  and  springs  do 
not  represent  fifteen  per  cent  of  the  volume  of  those  of 
like  rainfall  in  other  parts  of  the  world  of  less  volcanic 
disturbance,  and  so  condemned  this  region  to  virtually 
complete  aridity. 

Shortly  thereafter  we  descended  to  a  broad,  grassy 


THROUGH   PATHLESS  DESERT        9 

plain  full  of  zebra  and  Grand  buck,  —  almost  the  first 
game  we  had  seen,  by  the  way,  since  leaving  Nairobi,  — 
and  Outram  led  us  a  mile  off  our  true  course,  where,  hid 
away  beneath  a  high  rocky  ridge  and  immediately  on  the 
edge  of  a  lava  cliff  several  hundred  feet  high,  we  found 
several  natural  rock  tanks  of  sweet  rain  water  the  Kikuyu 
soda  porters  had  not  quite  emptied.  Already,  at  9  A.  M., 
the  rocks  were  so  hot  one  could  scarcely  hold  a  bare  hand 
on  them,  and  porters  and  animals  were  exhausted,  so  we 
camped  for  the  day. 

Far  down  beneath  us,  at  the  low  altitude  of  1,980  feet, 
and  at  the  lower  end  of  the  great  Rift  Valley  or  basin 
that  stretches  hundreds  of  miles  away  north  into  Abys- 
sinia, lay  Lakes  Magadi  and  N'garami,  pinkish  white 
fields  of  soda  winding  away  beyond  eye-reach  toward  the 
southern  horizon,  and  looking  like  the  winding-sheet  they 
have  often  in  the  past  proved  and  must  many  a  time  again 
become  for  unlucky  adventurers  into  this  veritable  Valley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 

At  4  A.  M.  of  the  seventeenth  we  were  on  the  move, 
descending  the  escarpment  by  a  semi-perpendicular  trail 
toward  the  lake.  Here  a  party  of  three  East  Indians  with 
a  lot  of  natives  and  donkeys,  soda  freighters,  tried  desper- 
ately to  pass  us,  the  leaders  carrying  water  vessels. 
Suspecting  they  knew  the  water  below  to  be  scant,  Ou- 
tram raced  ahead  to  the  tanks  a  mile  short  of  Lake 
Magadi,  and  held  them  against  the  Indians  until  our 
safari  arrived  about  7:30;  and  lucky  it  was  for  us  he  did, 
for  one  rock  basin  of  perhaps  sixty  gallons  of  fairly  clean 
water  and  four  others  of  semi-liquid  mud  represented 
the  total  water  supply,  and  the  last  drop  of  it  was  ex- 
hausted in  watering  our  men  and  animals. 


io  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

The  situation  was  desperate.  Ahead  of  us  lay  twenty- 
five  more  arid  miles,  utterly  waterless,  before  we  could 
reach  the  Guaso  Nyiro  River.  Men  and  animals  were 
exhausted  and  footsore.  Two  or  three  carefully  hoarded 
quarts  of  water  in  our  canvas  bags  was  all  we  had  left. 
The  men  were  ugly  and  wanted  to  turn  back.  After  a 
conference,  we  decided  to  lie  there  for  the  day  and 
attempt  to  win  through  by  a  forced  night  march. 

The  forenoon  hours  were  tolerable  within  the  shade 
of  the  rocks,  but  after  eleven  the  ravine  became  a  blazing 
inferno  of  heat,  dull,  breathless,  that  parched  the  skin 
and  seemed  to  dry  up  the  very  fountains  of  life.  A  tent 
fly  so  little  stopped  the  sun  rays,  one  could  not  sit  be- 
neath it  without  a  helmet  on,  —  remove  the  helmet  a 
moment  and  one's  brain  felt  a-crackle  with  the  heat. 

Shortly  after  eleven  things  began  to  happen,  —  first 
bad,  then  good.  The  bad  was  the  next  worst  thing, 
after  the  prevailing  drought,  that  could  have  struck  us. 
Our  niapara  (native  headman)  reported  that,  under 
excuse  of  hunting  water  up  the  gorge,  thirty-five  of  our 
Kikuyu  porters  had  deserted,  and  were  racing  up  the 
cliffs  towards  the  tanks  we  had  camped  at  the  night 
before.  At  first  this  seemed  nearly  our  finish,  for  scat- 
tering like  quail  and  climbing  cliffs  like  goats,  one  might 
as  well  try  to  catch  a  shadow,  while  their  going  meant 
the  loss  of  over  a  fourth  of  our  transportation.  However, 
when  we  came  to  figure  that  over  seven  hundred  pounds 
of  our  supplies  were  already  consumed,  and  when  we  found 
that  our  other  porters  remained  stanch,  we  realized  that  by 
packing  our  seven  saddle-mules  we  could  take  care  of 
the  excess  loads  our  remaining  porters  could  not  carry. 

Then  a  corking  bit  of  good  luck  befell  us.    One  of  our 


TOPI  BULL  HIT  BETWEEN  EYES  AT  450  YARDS 


TYPICAL  KIKUYU  WARRIOR 


THROUGH   PATHLESS  DESERT       n 

loyal  porters  found,  a  mile  away,  a  fine  tank  previously 
unknown  to  Outram,  that  furnished  sufficient  water  to 
give  all  our  men  and  animals  an  afternoon  drink  and  per- 
haps ten  or  twelve  quarts  besides  for  our  twenty-five-mile 
march,  —  meagre  enough  for  forty-five  men,  but  still 
far  better  than  none. 

So  at  5  P.  M.  we  loaded  the  donkeys  and  Outram  and 
I  led  out  across  the  lake,  Judd  following  on  the  rear  of 
the  porters. 

Crunching  over  wide  pinkish  white  desiccated  areas, 
slipping  about  in  ashen  gray  slime,  wading  shallow 
channels,  a  mile  and  a  half  brought  us  across  the  lake 
and  to  the  foot  of  a  steep  gorge  that  led  to  the  top  of  the 
next  escarpment.  South  or  west  of  Magadi  no  paths 
exist  but  the  game  trails,  so  Outram  led  on  and  I  remained 
till  Judd  arrived,  just  before  dark,  and  then  pushed  on 
ahead  to  try  to  connect  gaps  in  the  straggling  line  of 
porters  and  prevent  their  straying  and  getting  lost. 

Stumbling  over  grass-hid  rocks  and  through  belts  of 
thorn  thickets,  keeping  in  touch  with  the  fore  and  aft 
sections  of  the  moving  column  only  by  constant  calling 
back  and  forth,  it  was  desperately  hard  going.  Once  for 
an  hour  Judd  lost  connection  with  our  advance  section, 
and  I  sat  alone  on  a  hilltop,  shouting  vainly  for  him,  until 
I  had  lost  all  touch  with  the  section  ahead  of  me.  At  last, 
however,  by  rifle  fire  we  signalled  each  other,  and  his 
tired  and  crippled  men  slowly  crept  up  and  joined  me, 
and  we  stumbled  ahead  as  near  the  course  as  we  could 
guess,  until  finally  a  swinging  lantern  signalled  us  to  the 
camp  Outram  had  chosen,  —  and  glad  we  were  to  reach 
him  about  10  p.  M. 

No  tents  were  pitched  or  beds  made,  but  down  we 


12  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

dropped  among  the  luggage  and  slept  till  the  moon  rose 
at  2  A.  M.  of  the  eighteenth,  when  loads  were  again 
resumed  and  the  march  continued. 

Outram's  work  that  night  was  the  most  remarkable 
piece  of  night  travel  I  have  ever  known.  Travelling  by 
the  stars,  in  a  country  where  we  were  seldom  able  to 
keep  a  straight  course  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  turning 
sharply  to  right  and  left,  on  long  detours  to  keep  to  ground 
that  would  not  pitch  us  over  a  cliff  or  bump  us  into  an 
insurmountable  escarpment,  the  quarter-moon  overcast 
most  of  the  time,  the  ground  covered  thick  with  loose 
volcanic  stones  and  often  by  solid  walls  of  thorny  scrub 
we  had  to  push  through  or  wind  around, —  he  brought  us 
just  at  dawn  to  the  mouth  of  the  one  narrow  gorge  in 
fifty  miles  that  enables  ascent  to  the  next  escarpment! 
It  was  astounding. 

Then  came  again  the  infernal  sun,  and  men  and 
animals  began  to  weaken.  The  footing  was  frightful,  - 
no  footing,  in  fact,  just  slipping,  wrenching,  spraining  over 
loose  ragged  rock  masses,  until  about  9  A.  M.  we  sighted 
far  below  us,  in  one  of  the  deep  valleys  of  the  inter- 
escarpment  region,  the  line  of  tall  green  timber  that 
marked  the  course  of  the  Guaso  Nyiro,  and  then  began 
descent  over  smoother  country. 

But  the  last  five  miles  were  terrible,  three  across  a 
level  plain  through  grass  shoulder-high  and  dry  as  tinder, 
and  two  through  dense  thorn  thickets  that  made  slow 
winding  going,  and  yet  offered  little  shelter  from  the 
scorching  sun.  The  lead  of  our  column  reached  this 
plain  in  fair  form,  but  full  a  third  of  them  would  never 
have  won  through  had  not  Outram  and  I  hurried  to  the 


THROUGH   PATHLESS  DESERT       13 

river  with  the  ten  strongest  lead  porters  and  sent  water 
back  to  the  stragglers. 

We  reached  the  Guaso  Nyiro  at  n  A.  M.,  Judd  and 
about  half  the  porters  got  in  about  i  p.  M.,  and  ten  more 
straggled  in  during  the  afternoon;  but  it  was  mid- 
forenoon  of  the  next  day  before  the  remaining  fifteen 
found  strength  to  push  in  across  the  plain  with  their 
loads,  a  haggard,  footsore  lot  that  needed  a  day's  rest, — 
heavy  sleep  alternating  with  long  sousings  in  the  river, — 
before  we  were  able  to  resume  our  march. 

The  camp  was  ideal.  Superb  big  thorn  and  ficus 
trees,  vine-clad,  alive  with  monkeys  and  bright-hued, 
sweet-voiced  birds,  a  swift-flowing  fifty-foot  stream  of 
pure  water  teeming  with  fish  (kumbari),  and  game  every- 
where about  us,  so  thick  that  all  through  the  valley  and 
at  convenient  stream  approaches,  paths  wide  as  wagon 
tracks  were  worn  deep  into  the  soil,  —  giraffe,  Granti, 
gerenuk,  oryx,  lesser  Kudu,  rhino  and  buffalo,  guinea- 
fowl,  pau,  spur-fowl,  and  partridge. 

In  less  than  an  hour  the  three  of  us  caught  forty-five 
fish,  one-half  to  one-and-a-half  pounders,  while  the  boys 
caught  them  by  scores.  That  night  we  feasted  on 
kumbari  a  la  Regal,  that  Frederick's  sole  a  la  cardinal 
could  not  beat,  and  on  roast  guinea-fowl. 


II 

OLD   JUNGLE   WARRIORS   AT   BAY 

MOVED  out  well  beyond  the  game  reserve  to  the 
west  of  the  Guaso  Nyiro,  the  three  of  us  were 
out  before  dawn  of  the  nineteenth  after  rhino  or 
buffalo.  Within  twenty  yards  of  my  tent  we  found  where 
a  rhino  had  passed  in  the  night,  and  lucky  it  was  he 
had  not  winded  us.  Only  two  months  before,  and  at  the 
same  place,  Outram's  camp  was  charged  at  night  by  a 
rhino  that  actually  trampled  over  one  side  of  the  blankets 
in  which  his  mate,  Robinson,  was  sleeping.  All  about 
us  in  the  earlier  morning  hours  buffalo  had  trailed  in  to 
and  out  from  water,  but  we  did  not  see  one;  all  had 
trekked  back  into  the  thickest  jungle,  and  were  comfort- 
ably sleeping  off  their  night's  jag  of  food  and  water. 

All  sorts  of  other  game  we  saw  by  hundreds,  but  at 
nothing  did  we  shoot  until,  about  8  A.  M.,  the  sun  became 
unbearable  and  we  decided  to  return  to  camp.  Then  I 
stalked  and  was  lucky  enough  to  kill  a  bull  giraffe  that 
measured  fourteen  feet,  eight  inches,  from  hoof  to  horn 
end,  and  fifteen  feet,  nine  inches,  from  tip  of  nose  to  tip 
of  tail, —  a  bull  I  later  learned  from  R.  J.  Cunninghame 
to  be  a  true  " Kilimanjaro  giraffe"  (Giraffa  camelopar- 
dalis  tippelskirchi),  a  species  of  which  no  specim.cn  then 
existed  in  the  United  States.  Ordinarily  I  should  never 
have  thought  of  killing  a  giraffe,  for  they  are  wholly 
harmless,  but  our  boys'  feet  were  in  such  bad  shape  that 
marching  unshod  must  remain  impossible  for  some  days, 

14 


OLD  JUNGLE  WARRIORS   AT  BAY     15 

and  the  giraffe's  three-quarter-inch  hide  makes  the  best 
sandals  they  can  get.  However,  giraffes  are  so  wary, 
their  colors  when  in  timber  blend  so  perfectly  with  pre- 
vailing hues,  their  long  necks  are  such  convenient  look- 
out towers  for  their  high-perched  heads,  that  stalking 
them  successfully  is  so  difficult  that,  as  a  rule,  any 
sportsman  who  gets  one  has  a  handsome  run  for  his 
money. 

My  bull  proved  no  exception.  We  first  sighted  him, 
with  two  cows,  at  a  distance  of  about  four  hundred  yards, 
and  in  an  open  clearing  where  effort  for  nearer  approach 
was  useless.  My  first  shot,  with  a  .405  Winchester, 
broke  his  left  hip  and  ranged  forward,  —  and  then  the 
three  were  off  at  the  rolling,  side-wheel,  drunken-looking 
gait  of  their  kind.  But  before  they  disappeared  into  the 
bush  I  put  two  more  shots  into  him  and  Judd  one. 

Then  we  raced  across  the  thicket  and  took  up  his 
spoor.  And  a  rare  chase  he  led  us,  through  thickets  one 
would  never  venture  into  in  cold  blood,  for  fear  of  face- 
to-face  encounter  with  and  certain  charge  by  rhino  or 
buffalo, —  bush  so  thick  we  often  could  not  see  the  length  of 
a  gun  barrel  on  any  side  of  us.  Once,  on  our  right  and 
not  ten  feet  from  us,  we  heard  the  whistle  of  startled 
buffalo  and  threw  up  our  rifles  for  snapshots.  But  in- 
stantly brush  began  to  crash  and  hoofs  to  thunder  over 
the  rocky  ground,  fortunately  at  right  angles  to  our 
course.  Had  they  come  our  way,  we  were  so  tightly  shut 
in  by  thick  bush  that  nothing  could  have  saved  one  or 
other  of  us  from  a  collision  that  would  make  butting  into 
a  freight  train  feel  like  a  gentle  bump.  How  many  there 
were  we  never  knew,  —  indeed,  neither  of  us  had  even  a 
glimpse  of  one  of  them. 


1 6  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

Within  a  few  hundred  yards  the  spoor  became  difficult 
to  follow,  for  it  by  turns  followed  or  crossed  scores  of 
other  giraffe  tracks,  but  what  with  occasional  drops  of 
blood  upon  the  ground  or  smears  upon  grass  or  bush,  we 
managed  to  stick  to  him. 

Finally,  after  two  miles  at  killing  pace,  streaming  with 
sweat  and  racing  a  foot  ahead  of  my  mates,  —  not  be- 
cause I  was  faster,  but  by  their  courtesy,  —  I  sighted  him 
through  a  thicket  just  as  he  started  off  from  a  brief  rest, 
and  gave  him  two  more  shots  before  he  again  got  out  of 
sight.  But,  blowing  like  a  finisher  in  the  Marathon,  I 
placed  the  shots  badly,  and  it  was  not  until  yet  another 
two  miles  had  been  covered  at  heart-breaking  gait  that 
I  again  got  him  in  range  and  brought  him  toppling  down 
with  a  shoulder-shot  through  the  heart.  His  mates  we 
never  saw  again  after  their  first  disappearance. 

The  hoofs,  tail,  skull,  and  head,  and  a  few  feet  of  the 
neck  skin,  were  the  only  trophies  I  could  manage  to  save, 
for  even  had  the  boys  not  needed  the  hide  for  sandals  I 
could  not  have  packed  its  tremendous  weight. 

Leaving  a  boy  to  guard  the  carcass  from  the  marabout 
storks,  that  in  a  short  time  would  have  left  nothing  but 
clean-picked  bones,  we  hurried  back  to  camp  and  sent 
the  boys  out,  —  and  a  happy  lot  they  soon  returned, 
loaded  with  meat  and  hide  with  which  their  stomachs  and 
feet  were  soon  stoutly  reinforced. 

The  twenty-first  of  December  we  moved  camp  eleven 
miles  south,  parallel  to  the  course  of  the  Guaso  Nyiro, 
to  camp  on  the  N'gari  Kiti  (clear  water)  River,  traversing 
a  wide  plain  level  as  a  floor,  the  last  third  of  the  journey 
across  alkali -incrusted,  ashen-gray  stretches  in  which  our 
mules  sank  to  the  fetlocks. 


KILIMA  N'JARO  GIRAFFE,  THE  FIRST  SPECIMEN  OF  THE  SPECIES  TO  BE  BROUGHT 
TO  THE  UNITED  STATES 

THE  AUTHOR  AND  WILL  JUDD  AND  THE  Two  BUFFALO  BULLS 


CROSSING  LAKE  MAGADI 


OLD  JUNGLE  WARRIORS  AT  BAY     17 

The  N'gari  Kiti  is  a  roaring,  rollicking,  bold  stream, 
plunging  down  from  a  source  near  the  crest  of  the  Mau; 
but  four  or  five  miles  after  leaving  the  south  shoulder  of 
N'guraman  Mountain  on  a  brave  dash  for  union  with  its 
elder  sister  river,  the  Guaso  Nyiro,  it  falls  a  pathetic 
victim  of  its  venturesome  spirit,  drunk  dry  by  the  thirsty 
plain  and  then  spewed  up  a  mile  farther  down  in  the  form 
of  a  swamp  that  harbors  every  deadly  thing,  winged,  reptil- 
ian, quadruped,  that  Central  Africa  produces,  —  fever- 
charged  mosquitoes,  python,  rhino,  buffalo,  leopard,  lion. 
Outside  of  it  few  of  its  denizens  are  ever  seen  in  daylight. 

The  last  mile  of  approach  to  the  N'gari  Kiti  is  through 
a  jungle  absolutely  impassable  to  man,  without  use  of 
bush  knives,  except  along  game  trails,  but  the  bush  is 
cut  in  all  directions  by  the  trails  of  rhino,  buffalo,  and 
giraffe,  and,  literally,  almost  wherever  one  can  see  the 
ground  there  are  the  footprints  of  scores  or  hundreds  of 
the  Big  Ones.  But  the  droll  thing  is  that  while  these 
big  fellows  have  deep-cut  paths  along  which  they  easily 
race  beneath  low-arching,  heavy-branched  thorn  and 
other  scrub,  nevertheless  a  man  can  only  follow  them 
crouched  or  on  hands  and  knees  half  the  time,  —  and  even 
so  he  generally  finishes  with  arms  and  ears  torn  and 
bleeding. 

This  was  the  first  really  gay  night  about  any  of  our 
eight  camp  fires.  The  day's  march  had  not  been  hard, 
the  porters  were  at  last  well  shod,  a  clear,  cool  stream 
rippled  merrily  by,  and  the  camp  was  full  of  meat. 
Donkeys  and  mules  were  bomaed  in  a  thorn  zareba  in  the 
centre  of  the  camp,  —  for  the  big  bad  ones  were  so  thick 
about  us  it  was  more  than  an  even  chance  something  would 
charge  through  us,  and  the  stampede  of  one's  animals 


1 8  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

so  caused  is  even  more  troublesome  than  the  actual 
kills, —  our  three  tents  were  pitched  on  three  sides  of  the 
boma,  and  the  porters'  seven  fires  were  ranged  in  an 
outer  circle  about  ours. 

Then  while  we  ourselves  dined  luxuriously  on  giraffe 
tail  soup  and  a  ragout  of  giraffe  tongue  with  tinned 
tomatoes  and  potatoes  that  would  make  a  gourmet  sniff 
at  even  green  turtle  soup,  all  our  men  were  alternately 
minding  huge  chunks  of  meat  and  fish  roasting  on  sticks 
at  their  fires,  gorging  themselves,  singing  and  dancing, 
cutting  long  strips  of  zebra  meat  for  smoking  and  curing 
on  great  square  platforms  of  green  boughs  built  for  the 
purpose  over  each  fire,  and  calling  the  Kikuyu  all  sorts 
of  terrible  pagan  names  for  their  stupidity  in  deserting 
at  the  very  door  to  this  land  of  plenty. 

And  while  we  three  white  men  of  a  Christian  race 
stuffed  ourselves  without  preliminary  or  postprandial 
grace,  and  our  shenzi  porters  gracelessly  gorged  themselves 
like  beasts,  scarce  thirty  feet  from  our  table  stood  the 
noble  form  of  old  Regal  and  the  spare,  ascetic-faced 
Awala,  musically  intoning  their  evening  prayer  to  Allah, 
oblivious  to  all  about  as  if  alone  in  a  monastic  cell.  It 
was  a  majestic  rebuke  to  us,  a  weird  mystery  to  the  shenzi, 
whose  voices  were  always  lowered  when  the  Somalis 
began  to  pray,  and  who  sat  contemplating  them  in  wide- 
eyed  wonder  to  the  end  of  each  prayer,  awed,  almost 
silent,  —  as  were  we  ourselves  silent  out  of  sheer  respect 
for  a  religion  that  can  give  men  such  perfect  self-control 
that  no  danger  daunts  them  and  no  hardship  or  suffering 
wrings  from  them  a  plaint. 

Five  times  a  day  do  they  so  pray,  —  at  dawn,  at  high 
noon,  at  four,  at  sunset,  and  before  retiring, —  nor  can 


OLD  JUNGLE  WARRIORS  AT  BAY     19 

anything  interfere  to  delay  these  prayers,  not  even  hungry 
masters.  And  before  addressing  Allah,  mouth,  face,  and 
hands  are  carefully  washed,  the  best  turban  wound  about 
the  head,  the  freshest  garments  donned,  the  feet  bared; 
then,  with  a  glance  at  the  sun,  if  by  day,  or  at  the  stars, 
if  by  night,  to  get  their  compass  bearings,  they  spread 
their  rugs,  face  toward  Mecca,  and  begin  a  low  droning 
chant  that  at  a  little  distance  might  easily  be  mistaken 
for  a  well-intoned  litany. 

If  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  envy  good  old  Regal 
anything,  and  he  is  himself,  in  himself,  a  lot  of  things  I 
should  like  to  be,  it  would  be  that  profound  faith  in  the 
efficacy  of  his  prayers  which  has  served  to  endow  a  man 
born  a  wild  Somali  warrior  nomad  and  now  for  years  a 
cook,  with  the  dignity  of  a  cardinal  and  virtues  that 
would  put  no  end  of  so-called  "good  men"  to  shame. 
In  my  judgment,  all  lucky  enough  to  reach  the  real 
heaven  of  really  good  men,  no  matter  what  their  faith, 
will  find  there  Regal  Wassama. 

The  night  passed  without  incident,  save  that  to- 
ward morning  lions  were  heard  grunting  some  distance 
away. 

By  dawn  of  the  twenty-second,  as  soon  as  we  were  able 
to  see  our  gunsights,  we  had  finished  our  coffee,  bread, 
and  bacon  and  were  out  with  our  rifles;  for  here  was  a 
rarely  good  chance  of  record  trophies,  here  where  the 
game  is  as  undisturbed  by  hunters,  bar  the  hidden  pitfalls 
and  the  silent  spear  and  poisoned  arrow  thrusts  of  the 
Wanderobo,  as  it  was  in  the  beginning  of  time,  here  where 
trophy  hunters  had  never  come  before. 

It  was  an  ideal  morning,  for  heavy  rain  had  fallen 
throughout  the  night,  making  easy  the  spooring  of  fresh 


20  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

tracks  and  softening  dry  grass  and  twigs  until  one's  foot- 
steps were  noiseless. 

From  the  moment  we  left  camp  our  advance  was 
slow  and  cautious  —  on  foot,  behind  us,  the  gun  bearers 
with  our  spare  rifles,  behind  them  the  syces  leading  our 
mules  —  on  winding  game  paths  so  low  we  had  to  crouch 
most  of  the  time,  where  each  turn  of  a  bush  might  bring 
one  face  to  face  at  arm's  length  with  any  old  jungle 
warrior  that  would  carry  in  his  system  as  much  of  one's 
lead  —  unless  it  was  particularly  well  placed  —  as  a  man 
could  comfortably  pack  in  a  bandolier. 

We  moved  down  river  towards  the  swamp  and  out 
toward  the  wide  alkali  plain  that  extends  south  from  the 
swamp  four  miles  to  Lake  Natron. 

And  it  was  a  bit  odd,  our  so  going  out  in  such  infernal 
country,  for  only  the  day  before  each  of  us  had  vowed  that 
any  fool  who  liked,  could  go  after  rhino  and  buffalo  in  the 
thorn  jungle  of  the  river  and  the  tall  grass  and  vine  tangle 
of  the  swamp,  but  he  would  have  none  of  it;  and  now 
there  were  we  three  plunged  into  it,  as  if  just  a  matter  of 
course,  prey  each  to  the  lure  of  the  chase ! 

While  the  ground  was  covered  with  footprints  made 
the  day  before,  apparently  everything  had  gone  out  to 
the  open  to  feed  or  retired  to  the  more  secluded  recesses 
of  the  swamp,  for  it  was  not  until  we  reached  the  edge 
of  the  plain  just  at  the  upper  end  of  the  swamp  that  we 
found  the  first  spoor  made  since  the  rain  had  stopped. 

But  it  was  spoor  worth  while,  —  a  giant  rhino  whose 
footprints  in  the  soft  ground  were  a  full  twelve  inches  in 
diameter.  Evidently  he  had  been  out  for  a  night's 
ramble  and  feed  in  the  plain,  and  had  probably  entered 
the  swamp  no  more  than  half  an  hour  ahead  of  us. 


OLD  JUNGLE  WARRIORS  AT  BAY    21 

Leaving  mules  and  syces  outside,  we  at  once  started 
into  the  swamp  on  his  spoor,  easy  to  follow  as  a  highway, 
Outram  in  the  lead,  I  next,  and  then  Judd. 

Sometimes  the  rhino  followed  paths,  sometimes 
crushed  haphazard  through  the  tangle,  just  as  the  fancy 
struck  him.  Luckily  the  wind  was  quartering,  across  the 
general  line  of  his  advance. 

We  were  not  hurrying  any.  In  fact,  our  pace  would 
have  made  a  passing  funeral  look  like  a  Derby  finish. 
Feet  fell  silent  as  the  very  dew  itself.  The  least  unusual 
sound  reaching  him  meant  either  our  losing  him  or  his 
charging  us,  about  an  even-money  bet  which. 

It  is  droll,  but  in  this  sort  of  stalking  big  game  I 
always  find  myself  having  to  fight  a  persistent  inclination 
to  hold  the  breath  to  listen,  —  one  seems  to  hear  better 
when  not  breathing,  —  which,  if  not  resisted,  keeps  me  as 
hopelessly  blown  and  unsteady  for  close  shooting  as  if  I 
had  just  finished  a  hundred-yard  dash,  until  I  have  now 
long  made  it  a  practice,  under  such  conditions,  to  keep 
saying  or  thinking  to  myself,  "Breathe  deep  and  slow!" 
Keep  the  lungs  full  and  the  hand  is  pretty  sure  to  stay 
steady. 

I  don't  know  just  what  time  we  entered  the  swamp, 
but  I  should  think  it  was  within  fifteen  minutes  of  our 
entry  that  about  fifteen  yards  ahead  of  us  we  heard  the 
crunch  of  huge  jaws  and  a  mighty  sigh  of  surfeit.  The 
old  giant  had  apparently  found  shade  to  his  liking  and 
was  meditating  a  nap.  Plainly  he  was  unwarned  of  our 
presence.  Sound  told  us  he  stood  beneath  a  large,  wide- 
spreading  tree  whose  drooping  branches  met  the  thick 
mass  of  tall  grass  and  bush  that  lay  between  us  and  com- 
pletely hid  him  from  our  sight.  After  perhaps  four  or 


22  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

five  minutes'  waiting,  nerves  tense  and  every  sense  alert, 
we  thought  we  heard  movement  to  his  left  and  Judd 
turned  to  me,  bronze  cheeks  white  as  paper,  but  square 
jaws  set  and  eyes  blazing  battle,  and  whispered,  "I  believe 
there  are  two  or  three  with  him, —  if  so,  it 's  apt  to  be  hell 
here." 

And  then  a  moment  later  another  whisper  came  from 
Judd,  "I  think  I  can  see  his  rump;  shall  I  stir  him  up  a 
bit?"  and  no  more  had  I  nodded  assent  before  the  roar 
of  his  heavy  .450  cordite  rifle  was  followed  with  shrill 
squeals  of  rage  and  pain,  —  twigs  cracked,  great  limbs 
snapped  as  the  monster  whirled  toward  the  sound  coin- 
cident with  his  injury,  plainly  swinging  for  a  charge. 

Then  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  neck,  just  back  of  the 
ears,  and  sent  two  .405  hard-nose  Winchesters  into  it, 
and,  an  instant  later,  sighting  the  upper  half  of  the  head, 
gave  him  a  third.  At  this  third  shot  he  swayed  about 
in  the  bush  for  a  few  seconds  and  then  crashed  to  the 
ground.  While  I  was  shooting,  Outram  fired  once  with 
his  .303. 

All  was  now  still  beneath  the  tree,  and  after  a  few 
seconds  we  started  clambering  in  to  him,  but,  just  as 
the  vast  carcass  came  in  view,  he  tried  to  rise,  and  Judd 
gave  him  another  .450. 

But  his  effort  to  rise  proved,  when  we  got  to  him,  to  be 
only  the  death  throe.  Judd's  first  shot  had  hit  him  in 
the  left  hip  and  probably  angled  through  the  kidneys ;  his 
last  had  landed  far  back  in  the  neck  and  below  the  spine. 
Of  my  two  first  shots  one  was  four  inches  behind  the 
ears,  over  and  probably  reaching  the  spine,  the  second 
two  inches  back  of  and  an  inch  below  the  first,  while  my 
third  had  landed  full  in  the  curve  of  the  head  between 


OLD  JUNGLE  WARRIORS  AT  BAY    23 

eye  and  ears,  about  three  inches  below  the  left  ear 
and  a  inch  to  the  left  of  the  centre  of  the  "forehead." 
Outram's  .303  was  a  few  inches  lower  in  the  head,  crum- 
pled up  in  the  bone. 

It  was  my  third  shot  that  killed  him,  and  at  the  same 
time  exploded  a  fallacy  I  have  read,  to  the  best  of  my 
recollection,  in  every  book  I  have  ever  perused  on  rhino 
shooting,  viz.,  that  it  is  folly  to  try  to  kill  or  even  stop  a 
rhino  with  a  frontal  head  shot, —  that  no  rifle  ball  will 
penetrate  its  massive  frontal  bone  structure.  For  when 
we  came  to  remove  the  scalp  and  chop  away  the  horns, 
we  found  my  .405  had  driven  through  the  frontal  bone 
and  smashed  the  inner  skull  structure  to  fragments. 

And  it  was  a  prize  I  had!  Not  a  "record,"  but  close 
to  it,  a  splendid  old  bull  close  to  3,000  pounds  in  weight, 
with  an  absolutely  perfect  front  horn  of  graceful  shape, 
23^  inches  long  and  24!  inches  in  circumference  at  the 
base,  while  the  back  horn  was  10  inches  long  and  24  inches 
at  the  base.  His  length  from  tip  to  tip  was  12  feet,  7 
inches,  his  height  at  withers,  5  feet,  9!  inches,  while  the 
circumference  of  his  foot  was  30  inches.  He  was  killed 
at  7:  15  A.M.,  little  more  than  two  hours  after  leaving 
camp.  To  cut  away  his  mask  and  horns,  remove  the 
hoofs,  and  cut  strips  from  his  full  inch-thick  hide  for 
kibokos  (whips)  and  canes,  took  us  about  two  and  one- 
half  hours. 

The  foregoing  horn  measurements  were  made  the 
night  the  rhino  was  killed.  Thoroughly  dried,  the  front 
horn  measured  22  inches  on  the  outer  curve  and  22^ 
inches  in  base  circumference,  —  the  rear  horn,  9^  inches 
in  length  and  23  inches  in  base.  Rowland  Ward  records 
only  one  black  rhino  horn  above  24^  inches  in  base  (and 


24  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

that  one  24!  inches)  and  only  seven  better  than  22  inches, 
and  no  rear  horn  above  23^  inches  in  base  and  only  two 
above  22 J  inches,  thus  placing  my  N'gari  Kiti  giant  high 
among  the  top-notchers. 

As  soon  as  the  trophies  were  secured  and  started  for 
camp  we  clambered  out  of  the  swamp,  and  then  ambled 
away  south  to  the  much  larger  swamp  lying  between 
Shombol  Mountain  and  Lake  Natron,  wherein  the  Guaso 
Nyiro  River  finishes  its  career.  There,  Outram  told  us, 
were  buffalo  in  hundreds.  A  high  ridge  of  dry  ground 
near  the  centre  would,  if  we  could  reach  it,  command 
a  wide  view  down  into  the  long  grass  where  by  day 
the  buffalo  were  browsing  or  asleep.  To  negotiate  the 
four  miles  of  intervening  alkali  plain,  floundering 
through  deep  pools  made  by  the  previous  night's  rain, 
and  laboring  through  mud  into  which  our  mules  sank 
half-way  to  their  knees,  took  more  than  two  hours. 

To  the  east  of  us  the  majestically  buttressed  summit  of 
Shombol,  and  to  the  west  the  lofty  uplift  of  the  southern 
extremity  of  the  Mau  Escarpment,  stood  as  a  giant  gate- 
way, a  worthy  southern  entrance,  about  five  miles  wide, 
to  the  great  Rift  Valley,  there  immediately  guarded,  as 
by  a  colossal  fosse,  by  Lake  Natron.  This  winding 
along  the  foot  of  the  Mau  in  its  northern  reaches,  bends 
east  to  and  past  the  southern  flanks  of  Shombol,  per- 
petually sentinelled  by  Sonya's  beautiful  volcanic  cone 
rising,  midway  of  the  gateway  but  miles  to  the  south  of  it, 
to  a  height,  I  should  think,  of  at  least  9,000  feet. 

As  we  neared  the  swamp,  scores  of  acres  of  slightly 
raised  and  dry  ground  were  found  to  be  covered  thick 
with  buffalo  "sign,"  trampled  and  littered  like  a  farm 
barnyard.  But  try  as  we  would,  never  a  black  back  could 


OLD   JUNGLE  WARRIORS  AT  BAY    25 

we  see.  So  presently  we  started  for  a  try  to  reach  the 
tall  ridge  in  its  midst  that  lay  about  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  from  where  we  struck  the  swamp. 

Here  there  was  no  bush,  only  tall  swamp  grass  and 
rushes,  eight  to  fourteen  feet  high,  and  along  the  deeper 
water  channels  a  still  higher  and  thicker  growth  of  cat- 
tails. For  a  few  hundred  yards  the  ground  was  boggy, 
but  not  very  bad,  nor  were  the  channels  very  deep. 

When  in  about  a  thousand  yards  we  heard  the  shrill 
whistle  of  a  buffalo  a  short  distance  ahead  of  us,  but  at 
first  could  not  see  him.  Presently,  however,  as  he  crashed 
away  past  us,  Judd  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  and  tried  a 
snapshot,  but  apparently  missed. 

Then  we  chugged  on  through  the  marsh,  a  short  dis- 
tance farther  finding  ourselves  -compelled  to  dismount 
and  wade,  and  then  bumping  into  a  broad,  sluggish,  one- 
hundred-foot  channel  that  fell  away  to  a  depth  nearly 
over  one's  head  at  the  very  edge  and  looked  too  ominous 
of  crocodiles  to  be  attractive.  So  we  back-trekked 
and  circled  the  north  end  of  the  swamp  and  finally  found 
a  place  where  we  could  flounder  through  the  channel 
without  quite  swimming  our  mules.  Then  we  prospected 
along  its  western  edge  without  result,  until  one  of  our 
boys  volunteered  to  try  a  crossing,  won  through,  and  poked 
about  for  nearly  two  hours,  finally  returning  with  advice 
of  plenty  of  buffalo  a  half-mile  away  but  a  lot  of  hope- 
lessly bad  going  intervening. 

While  the  boy  was  gone,  Outram  whipped  out  a  hook 
and  line,  found  a  boy  who  was  treasuring  a  titbit  of  the 
rhino,  and,  commandeering  it  for  bait,  in  a  short  time 
landed  about  twenty  pounds  of  fine  kumbari,  ranging 
from  one  to  three  pounds  in  weight. 


26  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

The  boy  back  and  the  fish  wrapped  in  green  grass  and 
stowed  in  our  saddle  pockets,  about  2  p.  M.  we  started  for 
camp,  on  a  wide  circle  to  the  west  in  hope  of  getting 
quicker  out  of  the  soft  alkali  plain  to  hard  ground.  In 
an  altitude  here  below  2,000  feet,  the  heat  on  the  open 
plain  was  terrific.  Great  herds  of  Wildebeeste  to  the 
west  of  us  in  the  mirage  looked  big  as  elephants,  while  in 
the  shimmering  heat  waves  Natron  itself  looked  more 
like  a  mirage  than  real  water. 

After  about  two  miles  we  reached  slightly  higher 
ground  and  better  footing,  along  which  we  proceeded  for 
another  half-hour  without  incident.  It  was  then  about 
3 130  P.  M.  and  we  had  come  near  to  the  southwest  corner 
of  the  N'gari  Kiti  swamp. 

Tired  with  ten  hours'  constant  going  afoot  and  a-mule, 
and  drowsy  with  the  heat,  for  some  time  I  had  been  dozing 
comfortably  in  the  saddle,  unmindful  of  game  of  any  sort, 
when  suddenly  I  was  roused  by  a  low  whistle  from  Judd, 
to  find  him  gazing,  face  muscles  tense,  into  the  tall  grass 
on  my  left.  It  needed  only  a  glance  to  see  that  there 
before  us,  a  scant  one  hundred  and  forty  yards  away, 
stood  at  last  the  royal  quarry  we  had  been  seeking  since 
morning,  —  two  splendid  big  buffalo  bulls,  their  noses 
up,  pointed,  sniffing  to  precisely  locate  a  scented  enemy, 
their  great  heads  and  thick  horns  obscuring  even  their 
massive  shoulders! 

Instantly  we  bounced  off  the  mules,  and  scarcely  were 
our  feet  on  the  ground  before  here  they  charged,  straight 
at  us. 

All  three  of  us  opened  fire  together,  but  despite  the 
rain  of  lead,  on  they  came  without  swerving  until,  at 
about  thirty  yards,  they  turned  to  our  left,  toward  Lake 


OLD  JUNGLE  WARRIORS  AT  BAY    27 

Natron,  for  a  few  jumps,  when  the  old  fellow  again 
started  to  whirl  upon  us,  but  as  he  turned,  Judd  gave  him 
a  .450  in  the  mid  ribs  that  made  him  change  his  mind. 

Within  fifty  yards  of  their  first  turn  they  disappeared 
over  a  low  ridge  and  we  raced  after  them.  When  we 
reached  the  top  of  the  ridge,  there  below  us,  perhaps 
twenty  yards  away,  the  two  grim  old  warriors  stood  at 
bay,  badly  wounded.  But  they  were  still  full  of  fight, 
facing  us,  and  the  moment  we  appeared  again  they 
started  a  charge,  but  before  they  had  made  half  a  dozen 
jumps,  Judd  downed  the  young  bull  with  a  .450  in  the 
shoulder  and  I  the  old  bull  with  a  .  405  in  the  centre  of  the 
chest.  And  there,  down  and  practically  out  as  they 
seemed,  they  still  showed  so  much  fight  on  nearer  approach 
that  Judd  advised,  for  safety,  giving  each  a  careful 
finishing  shot,  which  we  did. 

One  of  my  -405's  was  found  crumpled  up  inside  the 
skull  of  the  younger  bull,  my  first  shot  at  him,  and  that 
it  had  not  bowled  him  over  at  once  was  remarkable, 
while  my  first  on  the  old  fellow  had  caught  him  aft  of  the 
shoulder  and  ranged  back  through  the  lung.  Judd's 
first  had  hit  the  young  one  in  the  hip.  The  old  one 
also  proved  the  tremendous  toughness  of  their  fibre,  for 
Judd's  .  450,  which  had  entered  the  mid  ribs  and  turned 
his  second  charge,  protruded  but  did  not  puncture  the 
skin  on  the  opposite  side,  —  we  cut  it  out  and  I  have  it, 
almost  unblunted,  after  traversing  a  great  seventeen- 
hundred-pound  carcass,  that  even  a  .450  cordite  car- 
tridge could  not  drive  a  hard-nose  ball  clean  through. 
Outram  had  landed  in  the  pair  three  .303's,  but  they  were 
only  flea  bites  to  these  giants. 

The  two  bulls  fell  and  lay  dead  within  precisely  nine 


28  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

feet  of  each  other,  both,  as  seen  in  the  photograph,  falling 
headed  the  same  way,  toward  their  enemy. 

They  were  splendid  specimens  of  two  types  of  bull, 
one  absolutely  in  his  prime,  perhaps  seven  or  eight  years 
old,  with  perfect,  symmetrical,  unbroken  horns,  and  the 
other  a  hoary  old  warrior,  goodness  only  knows  how  old, 
grizzled,  and  with  both  horns  short  by  five  to  six  inches 
of  their  original  length,  broken  and  worn  blunt  and 
smooth  in  battles  unnumbered  with  the  doughtiest  of  his 
race. 

The  horns  of  the  younger  bull  measured  41 1  inches 
on  their  widest  spread  and  27  J  inches  from  tip  to  tip, 
while  the  breadth  of  the  boss  was  15 J  inches. 

The  old  bull  measured  39!  inches  from  tip  to  tip  and 
42  inches  on  the  widest  horn  spread,  with  a  i2j-inch  boss. 
They  showed  hard  use  and  long,  honorable  service,  did 
these  old,  worn  Nature's  weapons,  smooth  and  polished 
like  ebony  from  tip  to  base  by  mighty  fence,  wrench, 
and  tussle  with  the  best  metal  of  their  kind,  whereas 
half  the  length  of  the  younger  bull's  horns  were  rough 
and  corrugated,  their  fine,  sharp  points  intact. 

But  the  old  bull  brought  me  another  trophy  rarer 
and  that  I  prize  even  more  than  his  splendid  mask  and 
horns.  While  the  men  were  working  on  the  head,  Judd 
noticed  a  small  black  shaft  about  the  diameter  of  a  small 
slate-pencil  standing  perpendicularly  out  of  his  right  loin, 
near  the  spine  and  six  inches  in  front  of  the  hip.  Asking 
the  boys  what  it  was,  one  answered,  with  a  laugh, 
"Other  hunters  have  been  out  long  before  you,  Bwana, 
but  their  resas  (cartridge)  was  not  as  good  as  yours; 
that  is  a  Wanderobo  poisoned  arrow."  And  so  indeed  it 
proved  when,  after  five  minutes'  cutting  and  tugging, 


OLD  JUNGLE  WARRIORS  AT  BAY    29 

the  arrow  head  was  withdrawn  from  the  bull's  tough 
back  muscles. 

It  was  a  remarkable  and  probably  unparalleled 
example  of  the  great  power  of  the  Wanderobo  bow. 
From  its  sharply  barbed  point  to  its  base,  the  arrow  head 
was  5^  inches  long,  and  4j  inches  of  its  length  had  been 
driven  through  the  half-inch  hide  and  on  into  the  heavy 
muscles  of  the  loin! 

Since  it  stood  perpendicularly  in  the  loin,  it  must 
have  been  shot  into  the  bull  while  he  was  passing  beneath 
a  tree,  or  when  he  was  drinking  directly  below  some  over- 
hanging bank,  both  methods  of  attack  favorites  of  the 
light-armed  Wanderobo. 

While  the  Wanderobo  poison  is  deadly  to  beasts  within 
five  to  twenty  minutes  when  fresh,  applied  to  arrow  heads 
in  this  dry  climate  it  cakes  to  the  hardness  of  enamel  in  a 
few  weeks  and  becomes  harmless.  Luckily  for  the  old 
bull,  it  was  evidently  such  an  old  disenvenomed  arrow  that 
had  perhaps  by  mistake  or  as  the  last  in  the  quiver,  been 
driven  into  him.  The  poison  is  made  from  the  bark 
of  a  bush  much  like  a  laurel,  which  is  boiled  down  and 
down  until  it  becomes  a  thick,  gummy,  concentrated 
extract.  So  prepared,  it  is  thickly  smeared  over  the 
barbed  head  and  three  or  four  inches  of  the  arrow's 
shank  or  shaft.  How  the  plant  is  known  botanically,  or 
whether  it  is  known  at  all,  I  am  unaware^  but  it  bears 
a  purple  fruit,  quite  the  shape  and  about  the  size  of  a 
small  olive,  which  I  understand  is  not  itself  poisonous. 

So  armed,  the  Wanderobo  tackle  and  kill  anything, 
from  the  tiniest  buck  up  to  elephant,  their  favorite  tactics 
a  silent  shot  from  a  brush  shelter  built  within  five  to  ten 
yards  of  a  much-used  watering  place.  Such  primitive 


30  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

shooting  covers  one  sees  daily  above  springs  and  along 
streams  in  mountains  and  plains  of  the  Wanderobo 
country. 

And  precisely  as  the  Wanderobo  is  an  artful  economist 
of  energy  in  making  his  kills,  so  also  is  he  a  cunning  labor- 
saver  in  dealing  with  the  meat  he  takes;  for  directly  a 
beast  is  so  struck,  off  goes  a  runner  to  whatever  near-by 
forest  glade  or  bush  recess  is  for  the  moment  harboring  his 
nomadic,  houseless  family  and  kin,  and  up  they  come  on  a 
run,  young  and  old,  like  ravening  wolves,  and  there  stop 
until  no  scrap  is  left  that  even  a  vulture  would  covet,  pack- 
ing comfortably  away  in  their  stomachs  what  a  white 
man  would  first  laboriously  carry  somewhere  on  his  back 
before  getting  the  good  of  a  bite  of. 

And  this  particular  arrow  head  the  old  bull  carried 
would  plainly  have  gone  much  deeper  had  it  not  struck  a 
rib,  for  as  found  the  thin  head  was  bent  almost  to  right 
angles  with  its  shank  by  contact  with  bone! 

That  it  was  a  very  old  wound  was  obvious,  for  not 
only  was  it  entirely  healed,  bar  local  irritation  about  the 
head,  but  in  places  where  the  hard  black  enamel-like 
coating  of  the  poison  was  worn  away,  the  shank  was  much 
rusted. 

While  at  the  time  I  realized  I  had  a  superb  trophy 
in  the  head  of  the  younger  bull  and  a  fine  one  in  the  older 
bull,  I  never  dreamed  I  was  crowding  records  until,  upon 
my  return  to  Juja,  I  got  hold  of  the  fifth  edition  of  Row- 
land Ward's  "Records  of  Big  Game,"  a  short  perusal  of 
which  showed  that  of  all  the  known  best  specimens  of 
Cape  buffalo  ever  shot,  over  their  entire  range  past  and 
present,  from  the  Cape  to  Somaliland,  very  few  have  ex- 
ceeded 1 1  inches  in  breadth  of  boss  and  none  have  equalled 


OLD  JUNGLE  WARRIORS  AT  BAY    31 

the  15  J  inches  of  my  younger  bull,  excepting  a  head  shot 
by  F.  C.  Selous,  whose  measurements  were  41  inches  on 
widest  spread  of  horns,  24!  inches  from  tip  to  tip  of  horns, 
and  i6j  inches  in  measurement  across  face  of  boss,  against 
my  41  J,  27§,  and  15 J  inches  for  the  same  measure- 
ments, thus  giving  my  fellow  second  place  in  this  par- 
ticular, while  only  seven  bulls  reported  have  equalled  the 
12^-inch  boss  of  my  older  bull.  This  record  pertains  only 
to  the  big  Cape  buffalo  proper;  as  for  the  smaller  type  of 
Abyssinian,  while  only  one  boss  is  returned  of  more  than 
10  inches,  nevertheless  one  splendid  fellow  killed  by 
Mr.  R.  A.  Colvin  had  the  breadth  of  30^  inches,  obviously 
a  magnificent  freak. 

It  was  7  P.  M.  when  we  reached  camp  that  night  with 
our  buffalo  trophies,  for  we  were  forced  to  do  an  extra  two 
miles  by  losing  our  way  in  the  dense  thorn  jungle  of  the 
N'gari  Kiti  valley,  —  in  fact,  we  only  regained  camp  at  all 
by  exchanging  rifle-shot  signals.  And  while  most  happy, 
a  more  tired  and  hungry  trio  would  be  hard  to  find,  for  we 
had  been  out  fourteen  hours  in  the  blistering  sun  on  scant 
water  rations  and  without  a  morsel  of  food  since  our  day- 
light breakfast.  However,  a  wash,  a  tot  of  whiskey,  a 
delicious  giraffe  tail  soup,  boiled  buffalo  tongue,  and 
beans  done  as  your  Boston  aunt  used  to  cook  them,  made 
us  fit  for  a  pipe  each,  —  and  then  we  tumbled  into  our 
blankets  and  a  sleep  that  needed  a  deal  of  waking  at  four 
the  next  morning. 


Ill 

KUDU,   COBRA,   WILD   DOG,   AND    ELAND 

FORCED  to  remain  in  our  N'gari  Kid  camp  the 
twenty-third,  to  clean,  cure,  and  dry  the  skins  and 
heads,  I  started  out  at  dawn  after  gerenuk  or  les- 
ser Kudu,  both  now  very  rare  buck  in  British  East  Africa 
and  both,  the  latter  especially,  extremely  hard  to  get, 
always  alert  and  off  like  the  wind  at  first  scent  or  glimpse 
of  you.  Riding  up  to  the  crest  of  high,  sandy,  rocky  ridges, 
densely  covered  with  thorn  and  sanseviera,  the  wild  fibre 
plant,  the  sort  of  country  these  bucks  love,  lying  between 
N'guraman  and  the  Mau,  Outram  and  I  dismounted  and 
for  five  hours  slipped  along  afoot,  closely  scanning  every 
opening  about  us  with  our  glasses. 

Everywhere  we  went  the  ground  was  covered  with 
fresh  tracks  of  buck  of  all  sorts,  from  little  dik-dik  up  to 
giant  eland,  and  much  giraffe  and  rhino  and  some  buffalo 
sign,  and  yet  throughout  the  first  five  hours'  tramp  we 
saw  no  animals  save  three  herds  of  beautiful  impala, 
which  we  carefully  avoided  disturbing,  and  a  few  tribes 
of  tiny  monkeys  and  giant  apes,  which  barked  and  chat- 
tered their  surprise  and  then  swung  away  through  the 
treetops. 

Finally,  about  half-past  ten,  our  quest  was  rewarded. 
Suddenly  out  of  his  concealment  behind  a  mimosa  bush 
sprang  a  Kudu  bull,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
dead  ahead  of  us,  flashed  like  a  meteor  across  a  narrow 
open  glade,  seen  by  me  for  no  more  than  two  seconds,  and 

32 


KUDU,  COBRA,  WILD  DOG,  ELAND    33 

then,  disappearing  on  our  right,  headed  past  us  and  back 
along  the  slope  of  the  ridge  we  were  following. 

With  little  hope  of  again  seeing  him,  but  taking  the 
chance,  I  sprinted  my  best  about  one  hundred  yards  to  the 
next  opening  in  the  bush,  along  the  course  he  was  taking, 
and  got  there  just  in  time  to  see  him  spring  out  of  the 
tangle  into  an  opening  in  a  field  of  sanseviera  and  stop  for 
an  instant,  head  turned  and  listening,  one  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  below  me.  Knowing  I  had  not  a  moment  to 
spare,  I  fired  the  moment  I  caught  my  bead  on  him,  and 
while  I  plainly  heard  the  ball  hit  him  heavily,  away  he 
bounded,  as  strong  apparently  as  when  I  first  sighted  him. 

Running  down  to  take  up  his  spoor,  however,  I  had  not 
gone  ten  feet  before  the  heavily  blood-reddened  sanse- 
viera leaves  told  me  I  had  him.  When  I  reached  him 
he  was  stone  dead,  shot  through  the  upper  third  of  the 
heart  by  a  .35  Mauser  soft  nose  which  had  passed  on 
clear  through  and  out  of  him,  and  yet  he  had  made  the 
marvellous  run  of  one  hundred  and  eighty  yards  before 
falling! 

His  horns  were  a  beautiful  pair  measuring  31}  inches 
on  the  outside  curve  and  15  inches  from  tip  to  tip,  their 
perpendicular  height  being  24^  inches,  a  rare  prize  in  these 
days  when  very  few  African  sportsmen's  bags  include 
lesser  Kudu  of  any  sort. 

That  night  we  dined  on  buffalo  tail  soup,  the  liquid 
thick  and  strong  as  beef  tea,  the  meat  deliciously  sweet 
and  tender,  far  better  flavored  than  even  giraffe  tail,  and 
on  fried  kumbari,  followed  by  roast  koorhaan,  a  bird  about 
the  size  of  and  as  tender  and  well  flavored  as  a  spring 
turkey. 

The  twenty-fourth  we  moved  ten  miles  up  the  steeply 


34  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

rising  valley  of  the  N'gari  Kiti  to  a  camp  a  thousand  feet 
higher  (viz.,  at  3,000  feet)  on  a  small  tributary,  the  N'gari 
Nyiro,  our  first  stage  on  the  ascent  of  the  Mau.  At  this 
camp  we  enjoyed  a  delightfully  cool  temperature,  and  it 
was  indeed  a  great  relief  from  our  fortnight  in  the  hot 
lowlands,  where,  bar  our  sleeping  hours,  we  were  con- 
stantly streaming  with  sweat.  Near  the  head  of  this 
valley  dwells  a  small  tribe  of  Loita  Masai,  who  disown 
allegiance  to  Lenani,  and  who,  besides  the  care  of  their 
flocks  and  herds,  and  contrary  to  Masai  tradition  and 
habits,  till  the  soil  and  eat  its  produce. 

Here,  high  up  on  the  foothills  of  the  Mau,  we  spent  our 
Christmas  Eve,  rather  a  silent  one,  —  for  me,  I  know, 
a  very  sad  one,  —  each  filled  with  longings  for  those  he 
loved  best. 

Christmas  Day  we  sent  our  donkey  loads  and  twenty 
porters  on  to  the  summit,  under  our  headman,  ourselves 
remaining  in  camp  to  finish  curing  our  trophies,  for  heavy 
rain  had  fallen  the  night  before  and  their  drying  was  un- 
finished, —  for  me  a  lazy  day,  the  first  real  rest  since  the 
start,  spent  alternately  making  diary  notes,  dozing,  and 
reading  the  latest  New  York  Heralds  (my  latest!),  of  dates 
from  November  i  to  8,  which  till  then  I  had  not  had  time 
to  open,  —  papers  with  the  first  news  I  had  read,  other 
than  a  three-line  Reuter  despatch,  of  the  happy  results  of 
our  elections,  and  stating  that  President  Roosevelt  had 
delayed  his  sailing  date  for  Mombasa  until  March  24. 
That  would  bring  him  here  the  end  of  April,  still  really 
a  month  too  early,  for  the  big  rains  usually  do  not  stop 
before  the  end  of  May. 

The  morning  of  the  twenty-sixth  we  were  off  at  day- 
light for  the  ascent  of  the  Mau,  over  Outram  Pass,  the 


CAMP  AMONG  CANDELABRUM  CACTI 
ON  THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  MAU 


KUDU,  COBRA,  WILD   DOG,  ELAND    35 

only  accessible  point  known  for  nearly  a  hundred  miles 
north  of  the  border.  The  buttressing  foothills  and  higher 
slopes  of  the  range  that  seem  to  offer  easy  access  to  the 
summit  prove  on  trial  only  comparatively  isolated  up- 
lifts, either  hopelessly  precipitous  on  the  far  side  or  lead- 
ing to  downright  impassable  cliffs  above.  While  guide  to 
the  Imperial  Boundary  Survey  four  years  before  Outram 
discovered  this  pass,  and  there  are  now  in  the  country 
only  two  men  besides  himself  who  know  it. 

By  desperate  hard  work,  drenched  within  by  per- 
spiration and  without  by  the  sopping  wet  grass  and 
foliage,  we  reached  the  summit  at  6,500  feet,  being  an 
ascent  from  our  camp  of  3,500  feet  in  three  hours.  Three- 
fourths  of  the  way  the  thorn  scrub  on  the  mountain  side 
was  so  dense  that  progress  was  only  possible  afoot  up 
winding  rhino  trails  so  steep  and  shut  in  by  creepers,  one 
could  not  ride.  Then  we  got  up  out  of  the  jungle,  into  a 
more  open,  big-timber  country  of  less  steep  slope,  where 
occasionally  we  could  for  a  few  hundred  yards  rest  our 
tired  legs  and  bursting  lungs.  Just  here  we  lost  our  first 
donkey,  of  characteristic  tsetse  fly  sickness,  —  and  lucky 
we  were  it  was  so  far  only  one. 

Just  before  arriving  at  the  summit  the  real  key  to 
the  pass  was  reached,  —  a  lofty  knife-blade  ridge  scarce 
eight  feet  wide,  strewn  with  granite  bowlders,  which  con- 
nected the  buttress  we  had  ascended  with  the  upper 
escarpment.  On  either  side  this  ridge  fell  away  almost 
perpendicularly  for  probably  2,500  feet,  and  along  it  we 
rode  for  the  several  hundred  yards  of  its  length,  so  fagged 
we  did  not  mind  chances  of  a  mule  stumble  that  might 
easily  toss  man  and  beast  over  the  edge,  for  often  the 
scattered  bowlders  compelled  riding  along  its  very  lip. 


36  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

Unfortunately,  heavy  banks  of  cloud  lay  1,500  to  2,000 
feet  below  us  on  either  side,  and  deprived  us  of  what,  on 
a  clear  day,  must  be  a  most  magnificent  view  to  north, 
south,  and  east. 

The  summit  reached,  we  crossed  a  superb  belt  of  big 
timber,  hardwood  trunks  five  or  six  feet  through,  rising 
sixty  to  eighty  feet  straight  as  a  spear  shaft  and  without  a 
limb,  and  then  began  a  rapid  descent  through  the  rich- 
est wild  grass  country  I  have  ever  seen,  green,  sweet, 
juicy,  and  such  a  thick  mat  one  could  not  walk  a  half- 
mile  through  it  without  exhaustion.  At  5,400  feet  we 
camped  on  a  high  bench  above  the  headwaters  of  the 
N'gari  Kiti,  which  a  few  miles  away  drops  to  the  arid 
eastern  plains  through  an  impassable  gorge.  We  found 
all  too  tired  to  engage  in  the  usual  evening  shoot. 

The  twenty-seventh  we  travelled  ten  miles  west,  most 
of  the  time  within  a  few  thousand  yards  of  the  German 
boundary,  over  the  beautifully  grassed,  timbered,  and 
watered  inter-range  region  of  the  Mau,  much  of  it  hard 
going  but  nothing  like  the  previous  day's  cruelty.  Besides, 
the  air  was  exquisite,  keen  and  bracing  to  a  degree  that, 
for  the  first  day  since  our  start,  made  men  and  animals  step 
out  as  if  they  were  really  alive.  We  camped  early,  at 
6,100  feet,  on  a  boisterous  little  mountain  stream  to 
hunt  eland,  the  biggest  and  finest  of  the  antelope  family, 
the  larger  bulls  weighing  up  to  fifteen  hundred,  now 
extinct  or  rare  in  most  parts.  Here  they  are  thick,  to 
judge  by  the  trails.  But  as  usual  they  are  hard  to  see 
when  you  want  them,  especially  since  they  stick  pretty 
close  in  thorn  scrub.  We  also  hoped  to  bag  here  in  the 
tall  timber  of  the  higher  ridges  our  legal  quota  of  colobus 
monkeys, —  the  big  long-furred  black  and  white  chaps, — 


KUDU,  COBRA,  WILD  DOG,  ELAND    37 

most  prized,  by  sportsmen,  of  all  the  monkey  tribe.  It 
was  a  fine  shooting  country,  thick  belts  of  heavy  forest 
alternating  with  wide,  open  glades  and  thorny  slopes. 

Going  out  afoot  at  noon  with  Judd  and  our  gun  bear- 
ers, within  an  hour  we  sighted  several  eland,  some  graz- 
ing, others  dozing  among  the  mimosa,  and  stalked  the 
big  bull  of  the  lot  to  within  an  easy  two  hundred  yards. 
There  I  fired  and  hit  him  behind  the  shoulder  with  the 
.405  so  hard  he  staggered  and  nearly  fell,  but  knowing 
their  great  vitality  and  taking  no  chances,  Judd  and  I 
gave  him  two  more  each,  when  he  stumbled  behind  a 
thicket.  But  upon  running  up,  sure  we  had  him,  it  was 
only  to  see  his  tail  wig-wagging  us  a  farewell  as  he  en- 
tered heavy  timber  four  hundred  yards  away.  Through 
long  grass  and  forest,  trailing  was  slow  and  difficult,  but 
so  Awala  and  I  followed  him  for  nearly  four  hours,  when, 
with  night  approaching  and  camp  far  behind,  we  had  to 
give  him  up. 

No  colobii  did  we  see  going  out  or  back,  but  I  shot  two 
birds  of  most  beautiful  plumage,  both  plantain  eaters, 
blue  heads  shading  into  green  necks,  with  red  wings  and 
long  blue  tails,  a  poor  apology  for  what  we  went  after, 
but  still  lovely  trophies. 

The  twenty-eighth  missed  being  our  red-letter  day  by 
several  sizes.  Always  difficult  to  keep  a  marching  column 
of  porters  in  close  order,  in  a  trackless,  rugged  mountain 
country,  where  the  long  grass  is  lined  everywhere  with  the 
passing  of  wandering  game,  the  moment  any  stragglers 
lose  sight  of  the  advance  or  rear,  there  is  always  a  chance 
of  their  getting  lost.  Molo,  the  burly  Kavirondo  table 
boy,  had  been  intrusted  with  a  valuable  twelve-bore 
Purdy  and  the  water  bottles,  and  ordered  to  stay  in  reach 


38  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

of  my  mule's  tail.  But  by  mid-forenoon  I  missed  him  and 
halted  the  advance.  A  scant  hour  before  I  had  killed 
two  kongoni  for  the  porters,  and  he  was  then  present. 
But  when  first  the  quick-marching  porters  and  then  the 
slow-moving  donkeys  came  in,  neither  porters  nor  donkey 
boys  remembered  seeing  him  since  the  last  kill.  So  there 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  off-saddle  and  stop,  and  send 
boys  out  with  guns  and  whistles  to  try  to  signal  him. 

Finally,  after  four  hours,  he  was  brought  in,  worn  out 
and  fagged  from  a  five-mile  detour  south  of  our  course 
into  German  East  Africa,  all  come  of  sheer  stupidity, 
careless  indifference  to  his  morning  orders,  and  loss  of 
touch  with  the  column. 

Our  luncheon  was  over  and  we  were  ready  to  resume 
the  march,  so  immediately  he  appeared  I  ordered  him 
stripped  of  the  cartridge  bag  and  gun,  his  insignia  as  a 
tent  boy,  assigned  him  the  heaviest  load  in  the  lot,  and 
told  him  if  he  was  not  in  the  night  camp  with  the  first  ten 
porters  he  would  carry  two  sixty-pound  loads  the  next 
day.  The  result  was  amusing,  for  throughout  a  par- 
ticularly hard  afternoon's  march,  heavily  burdened  as 
he  was,  he  was  never  one  hundred  feet  behind  my  mule. 
But  he  got  in  surly  and  ugly,  his  great  underlip  pendent 
somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  his  knees. 

Indeed,  the  fact  is  after  all  that  the  African  black  is 
nothing  but  a  grown-up  child,  on  whom  no  punishment 
short  of  a  corporal  drubbing  counts.  The  load  penalty 
I  had  decreed  only  left  him  surly;  but  when,  later,  Judd 
ordered  him  out  with  others  to  fetch  firewood  and  he  sat 
tight  by  his  fire  and  returned  a  surly  stare,  and  Judd 
hurled  at  him  a  heavy  knob-kerrie  that  landed  him  a  hard 
smash  on  the  shins,  out  he  flew  and  did  the  work  of  three 
men,  cheerfully  singing  at  his  task. 


KUDU,  COBRA,  WILD   DOG,  ELAND    39 

Nor  was  Molo's  getting  lost  our  only  mishap,  for  at 
4  P.  M.  we  awakened  to  the  fact  that  all  the  donkeys  and 
over  half  the  porters  had  lost  touch  with  the  advance  and 
strayed  in  the  jungle.  And  by  every  ill  token  the  lot 
lost  had  all  our  tents,  blankets,  and  the  cook's  mess  kit. 

We  were  then  on  the  higher  slopes  of  Lengijabi  Moun- 
tain, at  a  height  of  6,800  feet,  and  the  keen  evening  chill 
of  the  high  plateau  had  already  driven  us  into  our  coats. 
We  built  big  signal  fires  of  grass  and  green  leaves  that 
sent  up  tall  smoke  columns,  and  searched  with  our  glasses, 
the  lower  country  we  had  crossed,  but  all  to  no  purpose, 
until,  about  an  hour  before  sunset,  we  sighted  them  cross- 
ing a  bit  of  open  slope  at  least  five  miles  away,  headed 
due  north  instead  of  west!  So  plainly  there  was  nothing 
to  do  but  camp  where  we  were,  on  a  rocky  slope  steep  as  a 
roof  and  at  least  four  hundred  feet  above  the  nearest 
water,  —  rain  pools  in  the  canyon  below. 

Of  course  a  runner  was  sent  after  the  stragglers,  and 
about  9  P.  M.  a  few  lead  porters  got  in  with  a  part  of  the 
mess  kit  and  we  had  a  bit  of  supper,  —  most  conveniently, 
for  no  more  were  we  laid  down,  somewhat  sheltered  in 
wind-breaking  nooks  of  the  rocks,  and  wrapped  in  noth- 
ing but  our  raincoats,  before  a  pelting  cold  rain  came  on. 
It  drove  us  into  a  huddle  about  the  camp  fire  for  the 
rest  of  the  night,  and  caused  heavy  drafts  on  our  phil- 
osophy to  concede,  what  was  really  the  fact,  that  the  boys 
were  little  to  be  blamed  for  going  astray  in  the  frightful 
tangle  of  deep  gulches  and  thorn  and  cactus  thicket  our 
afternoon's  course  had  traversed. 

However,  by  sun-up  the  last  of  the  strayed  porters 
climbed  into  camp,  for  they  had  reached  the  bottom  of 
the  canyon  beneath  us  early  in  the  morning  but  had 
found  ascent  in  the  dark  impossible. 


40  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

Here,  again,  we  were  upon  a  trek  practically  impas- 
sable to  any  white  man  but  Outram,  for  from  Duck  Creek, 
our  night  camp  of  the  twenty-ninth,  to  the  Kibaibai  Hills 
and  Springs,  a  distance  of  fifty-five  miles,  there  are  no 
streams  or  springs,  not  a  drop  of  water  except  natural 
rain  tanks  he  found  while  leading  the  advance  of  the 
Boundary  Survey.  But,  mystery  to  me  though  it  was, 
he  was  able  to  find  them  again,  and  straight  to  each  he 
marched,  unerring,  notwithstanding  none  lay  near  by 
any  prominent  landmark,  — -  now  plunging  down  to  the 
bottom  of  a  deep  gulch  covered  with  scrub  we  had  to  crawl 
through,  again  winding  up  a  dry,  rocky  gorge  like  as  two 
peas  to  many  others  near  by,  again  scrambling  to  the 
summit  of  some  lofty  crag,  undistinguishable  by  us  from 
its  fellows.  Only  once  in  the  four  camps  we  made  on  this 
fifty-five-mile  dry  belt  did  Outram  fail  to  score  true  on  the 
water,  and  then  he  fetched  it  after  a  two  hours'  search. 

The  night  of  the  twenty-ninth,  after  an  easy  march  over 
treeless  uplands  of  the  eastern  slope  of  the  Mau  Plateau, 
we  camped  about  three  miles  from  Mount  Ol  Albwa, 
beside  one  of  Outram's  clear,  cold  rain  pools  and  in  a 
thick  grove  of  candelabrum  cactus,  —  and  took  good 
pains  to  stoutly  boma  our  mules  and  donkeys  inside  a 
narrow  ring  formed  by  our  eight  tents  and  camp  fires, 
for  three  lion  were  close  to  our  camp  the  previous  night, 
and  thence  west  they  were  about  every  night  and  might 
give  one  a  look-in  any  time.  And  by  eight  o'clock  we 
were  not  sorry  we  were  well  bomaed,  for  two  big  fellows, 
big  indeed  if  they  were  big  as  their  deep  voices,  were  hail- 
ing from  a  distance  of  a  few  hundred  yards,  hailing  us 
with  deep  guttural  grunts  which,  bar  the  fierce  snarl  when 
attacking  from  short  range,  is  about  the  only  sound  one 


KUDU,  COBRA,  WILD   DOG,  ELAND    41 

ever  hears  from  the  wild  lion.  Few  men  have  ever  heard 
him  "roar,"  and  only  one  such  case  have  I  heard  of  where 
he  was  not  at  the  time  in  battle  with  one  of  his  mates. 

For  fifteen  minutes  our  serenaders  slowly  approached 
us,  and  then  their  voices  receded;  off  they  were  for  a  prowl 
in  another  direction. 

Now  we  were  come  again  into  a  country  alive  with 
game,  wooded  hills,  ravines,  and  naked  plains  alike,  — 
eland,  Wildebeeste,  topi,  Granti  and  Thompsoni  zebra, 
buffalo,  giraffe,  rhino,  water  buck,  all  thronged  in  for 
fresh  range,  there  made  available  during  the  rains,  from 
their  dry-season  haunts  near  the  springs  and  small  creeks 
of  distant  better  watered  sections  of  the  Mau. 

So  the  next  morning  I  went  out  with  Outram  after 
eland.  It  was  slow,  hard  work,  of  necessity  afoot,  for 
the  eland  are  few,  and  since  they  may  be  found  running 
with  almost  any  mob  of  game,  every  bunch  of  zebra, 
Wildebeeste,  impala,  or  other  buck  one  sees,  one  needs  to 
scan  everything  carefully  with  glasses,  and  then,  if  no 
eland  are  present,  slip  softly  past,  without  disturbing  them, 
to  the  next  mob. 

Shortly  after  sunrise  and  when  well  up  on  the  north 
slope  of  Ol  Albwa,  slipping  along  through  the  bush 
some  distance  from  Outram,  seventy-five  yards  ahead  in 
a  little  opening  I  saw  a  group  of  —  I  did  n't  know  what  — 
big  black  fellows  with  dull  yellow  tortoise-like  spots, 
great  round  ears,  upstanding  manes,  and  white-tipped  tails, 
coolly  looking  me  over  and  snarling  in  concert.  What- 
ever they  were  I  wanted  one  of  those  quadrupedal  co- 
nundrums, and  dropped  the  biggest  I  could  see,  tall  as  a 
big  setter,  with  a  ball  through  the  shoulder  —  when  off 
out  of  sight  scampered  the  eight  or  ten  of  his  fellows. 


42  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

When  Outram  came  up  and  I  asked  him  what  it  was 
I  had  bagged,  he  replied: 

"Wild  dog  —  and  you  are  in  luck,  for  usually  when 
you  kill  one  the  pack  is  on  you  in  a  second,  and  it  is  up 
in  a  tree  or  down  their  throats  for  yours.  Why,  during 
the  Survey  Dr.  Chevalier  was  treed  by  a  pack  of  about 
eighty,  and  notwithstanding  he  soon  killed  twenty  or 
thirty,  —  all  he  had  cartridges  for,  —  up  the  tree  they 
held  him  for  five  mortal  hours." 

So  clearly  I  wras  lucky,  for  I  am  none  too  well  built  for 
tree-climbing,  and  the  local  variety  of  thorn  tree  is  amaz- 
ingly contrived  to  make  desperate  tough  going  for  the 
best  climber. 

A  half-hour  later,  while  crossing  a  small  patch  of  three- 
foot  grass,  out  of  it  a  few  feet  in  front  of  me  up  stood  the 
wide-hooded,  blue-black,  hideous  head  of  a  seven-foot 
m'piri  or  black  cobra,  poisonous  as  an  adder,  an  ill-man- 
nered beggar  who  spits  at  you  and  ruins  the  sight  if  he 
hits  an  eye,  so  these  Africanders  say.  This  chap  took  a 
snapshot  at  me,  but  if  I  can't  climb  trees  I  am  ready  to 
back  myself  at  heavy  odds  as  a  snake-dodger.  I  wanted 
his  skin,  but  before  I  could  get  the  shotgun  he  had  slipped 
into  thick  bush  where  none  of  us  cared  to  follow  him. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  before  we  sighted  eland,  when  a 
herd  of  eight  came  over  the  summit,  startled  by  a  shot 
by  Judd  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  mountain.  We  had 
only  an  instant's  glimpse  of  them,  quite  out  of  safe  range, 
and  then  they  were  lost  in  the  bush.  But  we  soon  got 
their  trail  and  for  six  hours  followed  it,  up  and  down, 
through  glade  and  bush,  to  a  three-fourths  complete 
circuit  of  Ol  Albwa's  broad  flanks.  Only  once  more 
did  we  sight  them,  still  out  of  range. 


KUDU,  COBRA,  WILD  DOG,  ELAND    43 

But  while  the  day  yielded  nothing  tangible  but  the 
wild  dog  and  a  buck  shot  for  the  porters,  it  was  still  a  day 
that  had  one's  nerves  a-tingle  and  every  sense  alert  from 
dawn  till  dark;  for  fresh  rhino  and  buffalo  sign  was 
everywhere,  lion  tracks  made  that  same  morning  were 
several  times  encountered  on  paths  we  had  to  follow  to 
hold  to  our  eland  spoor,  and  any  turn  of  a  bush  might 
have  brought  on  a  scrap  that  would  take  quick  and 
straight  shooting  to  win. 

The  real  reason  for  our  stop  of  a  day  at  Ol  Albwa, 
however,  was  in  order  to  send  back  a  lot  of  porters  to 
search  for  my  Kudu  head,  which  had  been  lost  off  one 
of  the  donkey  loads  two  nights  before,  when  they  were 
astray  in  the  thickets  about  Lengijabi.  And  it  was  de- 
lighted I  was  when,  upon  reaching  camp  in  the  evening, 
I  found  the  men  returned  with  it.  For  the  Kudu  was, 
so  far,  my  greatest  treasure.  Any  man  may  have  his 
chance  at  a  rhino  or  buffalo  if  he  cares  to  incur  the  risks 
of  going  after  them,  but  few  sportsmen  have  the  luck  to 
bag  a  Kudu. 

About  Albwa,  one  of  the  gulches  shows  in  the  wash 
great  quantities  of  garnets  of  the  sort  always  found  in  con- 
junction with  the  Kimberley  blue  clay  diamond  formation, 
but  we  found  none  of  them  "in  place." 


IV 

SEEN   FROM   A  RHINO'S   BED 

THE  last  day  of  the  old  year  1908  we  did  a  hard  march 
of  sixteen  miles,  the  first  two-thirds  over  the  roll- 
ing, billowy,  short-grassed  Mau  Plateau,  through 
almost  solid  herds  of  game  as  ignorant  of  man,  his  weapons, 
and  his  guile  as  were  the  first  of  their  species,  —  game  that 
at  first  fled  madly  at  sight  of  us,  and  then  often  trotted 
back,  out  of  sheer  curiosity,  to  near  approach.  The  sight 
carried  me  back  to  our  own  plains  of  the  early  'yo's,  for 
in  form,  in  color,  and  in  action,  though  not  in  size  or  in 
pelt,  the  Wildebeeste  at  a  few  hundred  yards  so  closely 
resembles  the  American  bison,  that  any  old-timer  might 
easily  fancy  himself  transported  back  by  some  happy 
miracle  to  the  days  of  his  youth  and  the  old  buffalo 
range  that  now  remain  no  more  than  a  memory  to  the 
few  still  living  who  once  knew  them. 

During  the  morning  I  shot  a  particularly  fine  buck, 
which  Judd  and  Outram  agreed  was  not  a  true  Grand. 
Unless  a  Robertsi,  it  was  a  hitherto  unrecorded  species. 
Smaller  of  body  bulk  than  the  common  Granti,  its  horns 
had  much  greater  spread  and  an  entirely  different  curv- 
ature. They  measured  235  inches  in  height  on  the  outer 
curve  and  19  inches  spread,  tip  to  tip.  Clearly  the  buck 
was  no  individual  freak,  for  we  saw  so  many  like  him 
that  it  was  perfectly  plain  he  is  the  characteristic  type 
of  southern  Mau  Granti. 

The  last  third  of  this  day's  march  was  a  descent  of 

44 


SEEN  FROM  A  RHINO'S   BED        45 

a  thousand  feet  through  a  maze  of  dry  gulches  and  dense 
thorn  scrub  that  tore  everything  tearable  to  tatters,  and 
added  a  few  more  gashes  to  arms  and  hands  that  already 
looked  and  felt  as  if  they  had  done  active  service  in  a 
leopard  fight. 

This  night  for  the  first  time  our  hitherto  unfaltering 
guide  failed  to  find  readily  the  water-holes  for  which  he 
was  steering.  In  fact,  for  half  the  afternoon  our  little 
column  was  lost  in  three  separate  sections,  each  from  the 
others,  and  Outram  lost  to  all  of  us;  and  it  was  not  until 
sunset  that,  by  shooting,  yelling,  and  smoke  signalling, 
Judd  and  I  got  the  lot  once  more  together,  just  as  Outram 
stumbled  out  of  the  thorns,  rent  and  bleeding  by  his  two 
hours'  prowl  through  the  gulches,  with  the  good  news 
that  he  had  water. 

And  right  where  he  got  the  water  most  others  would 
have  sat  and  died  of  thirst.  But  a  scant  inch  of  slightly 
damp  clay  at  the  foot  of  a  high  overhanging  bank,  a  scant 
dozen  stalks  of  coarse  marsh  grass  that  looked  as  if  it 
would  sell  its  birthright  for  a  bit  of  real  marsh,  cuddling 
close  to  the  damp  clay  in  the  bottom  of  a  sandy,  stony 
gulch,  dry  as  a  bone,  had  been  enough  to  catch  the  eye  of 
this  veteran  of  the  West  Australian  desert.  And  after  an 
hour's  digging  with  shovels  and  crowbars,  we  got  a  hole 
in  the  sand  that  we  found  we  could  rely  on  to  fill  about  once 
an  hour,  and  that  full  held  about  two  buckets  of  good 
water!  Little  enough  for  fifty  men  and  thirty  beasts, 
but  still  enough. 

And  there  that  night,  walled  in  by  the  close-crowding 
thorn  that  left  scant  room  for  our  camp,  with  less  of  water 
within  a  day's  march  of  us  than  the  champagne  gilded 
youth  and  guilty  age  pour  out  of  a  New  Year's  Eve  at 


46  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

Rector's,  my  tired  mates  and  porters  turned  in.  With  no 
sound  in  my  ears  but  the  sough  of  the  night  breeze 
through  the  ghastly  gray  branches  of  the  thorn  scrub,  the 
yelps  of  jackals,  the  howls  of  marauding  hyenas,  and  the  dis- 
tant grunts  of  two  prowling  lion,  I  sat  alone  and  saw  the 
Old  Year  out  and  the  New  Year  in,  lost  in  sequent  visions, 
forming  in  the  bright  embers  of  my  camp  fire  and  disap- 
pearing in  their  ashes,  of  many  a  merrier  New  Year's  Eve 
with  dearly  loved  hands  in  reach  and  dearly  loved  lips 
toasting  me  the  best,  visions  of  such  nights  at  home,  at 
Sherry's  and  Delmonico's,  at  old  Martin's  and  new,  - 
visions  so  clear  and  real  that  presently  the  sweet  measures 
of  the  Monte  Cristo  Waltz  were  delighting  my  ears, 
voices  babbling,  glasses  tinkling,  laughter  ringing  —  and 
then,  suddenly  rousing  to  a  realization  of  a  fire  turned  all 
ghostly  gray  as  the  shrouding  walls  of  thorn  and  a  night 
as  chill,  if  not  as  white,  as  many  a  New  Year's  Eve  at 
home,  I  rolled  up  in  my  blankets. 

New  Year's  Day  brought  us  out  of  the  arid  jungles 
and  into  a  beautiful  park-like  country,  abounding  in 
clear,  cold  springs  and  streams.  Just  above  Kibaibai 
Spring,  where  we  made  our  night  camp,  four  years  before 
Outram  and  Leverson  Gower  had  seen  ten  maneless 
(bush)  lions  wrangling  like  a  lot  of  dogs  over  a  zebra 
kill,  and  shot  two  of  them  from  a  near-by  ambush. 

Hereabouts  rhino  sign  was  thick,  and  about  five 
o'clock  I  hid  myself  in  a  rhino's  bed,  beneath  low-droop- 
ing boughs  of  a  bush  that  completely  shut  it  in,  and 
immediately  beside  a  deep  rhino  path,  full  of  fresh  sign, 
about  a  mile  from  camp,  and  there  stayed  till  dark. 
While  no  rhino  came,  it  was  an  amusing  evening. 
Tommys,  tiny  oribi,  and  graceful  impala  entered  and 


SEEN   FROM  A  RHINO'S  BED        4? 

leisurely  grazed  or  played  across  the  glade,  all  about  me, 
often  within  fifty  feet.  Could  I  have  stirred  to  make 
adequate  opening  in  my  shelter,  I  should  have  gotten 
some  capital  photographs,  but  the  crackle  of  a  twig  would 
have  sent  them  off  helter-skelter,  and  so  I  sat  tight, 
until,  at  sundown,  all  wandered  off  into  the  bush  toward 
the  hills. 

And  then,  just  as  I  was  about  to  leave,  with  great 
clatter,  chatter,  and  barking,  and  a  noise  of  crashing 
boughs  like  rhino  smashing  through  bush,  out  trooped  a 
big  tribe  of  great  man  apes,  old  and  young,  close  to  a 
hundred  of  them,  the  biggest  above  four  feet  high,  pap- 
pooses  holding  to  the  scruff  of  their  mothers'  necks  and 
riding,  comfortably  on  their  backs,  and  fierce  -  faced, 
long-fanged  old  men  in  the  lead  and  out  on  the  flanks. 
For  half  an  hour  they  pranced  all  around  me  there, 
youngsters  scuffling  and  capering,  elders  digging  roots  or 
breaking  great  boughs  and  tearing  bark,  —  apparently 
taking  in  the  dessert  of  the  evening  meal,  for  just  as  the 
brief  twilight  was  fading  into  night,  and  when  I  was 
beginning  to  think  I  would  have  to  shoot  my  way  out  to 
get  back  to  camp,  off  they  ambled  into  the  bush. 

We  nooned  the  second  of  January  on  the  cascades  of 
the  Lenderut  River,  which  some  day  will  be  visited  as  a 
remarkable  bit  of  African  scenery.  While  then  no  more 
than  a  clear,  cold,  swift-flowing,  loud-rippling  brook,  in 
the  "big  rains"  the  Lenderut  is  a  roaring  torrent.  Just 
at  our  camp  the  river  has  cut  its  way  through  a  great 
dyke  of  close-grained  gray  crystalline  granite,  with  a  drop 
of  probably  eighty  feet  in  the  half-mile,  and,  through  some 
freak  of  the  combined  chemistry  of  rock  and  water  or 
some  wizard  work  of  physics,  along  its  bottom  and  its 


48  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

sides  up  to  high-water  level  were  carved  out  in  the  hard 
rock  immense  round  tanks,  some  twenty  feet  deep  and 
big  enough  for  a  swimming  bath.  Indeed,  one  sees  here 
every  sort  of  vessel  represented,  narrow-mouth  vases, 
tiny  cups,  and  shallow  saucers,  all  smooth  and  highly 
polished  of  interior  and  lip  as  porcelain  and  all  brimful  of 
sweet  water,  come  of  the  recent  rains.  From  a  great  pool 
at  the  foot  of  the  cascade  Outram  caught  some  fine 
eight-pound  kumbari,  while  I  caught  him  and  a  bit  of  the 
gorge  with  my  camera,  —  the  first  time  this  world-old 
cascade  has  come  under  snapshot  fire. 

That  night's  camp  was  the  most  beautiful  of  any  on 
this  safari,  beside  an  ice-cold  brook,  a  tributary  of  the 
Lenderut  thickly  lined  with  wild  date  palms  and  wild 
figs,  about  a  mile  below  its  source  in  a  dozen  great  springs 
which  covered  nearly  a  square  mile  in  area. 

And  that  same  square  mile  gave  me  about  the  un- 
canniest  and  toughest  two  hours  I  ever  had.  Rhino  and 
buffalo  tracks  were  thick  about,  and  at  five  o'clock  I  took 
Awala  and  a  porter,  crossed  the  brook,  and  strolled  up 
toward  the  springs  on  the  chance  of  a  shot.  On  the  way 
up  we  slipped  past  several  herds  of  impala  and  other 
buck,  but  it  was  not  until  we  were  near  what  I  supposed 
to  be  the  source  of  the  brook  that  anything  happened. 
There  was  a  great  crash  and  smash  within  the  bush  a 
few  yards  on  our  right  that  sounded  more  like  buffalo 
than  rhino.  I  waited  a  few  minutes,  on  the  chance  they 
would  come  out,  and  then  crept  down  into  the  edge  of  the 
thicket  opposite  the  point  at  which  we  last  heard  them. 
Peering  within,  the  bush  looked  fairly  open, —  thick- 
crowding  giant  ficus  trees  and  palms,  but  not  much  under- 
growth or  vines.  Directly  beneath,  the  bank  pitched 


SEEN   FROM  A  RHINO'S  BED        49 

steeply  down  to  what  I  then  supposed  was  the  single 
source  of  the  brook,  and  down  it  we  softly  slid  and  about 
through  the  palms  we  tiptoed,  eyes  keenly  watching  for  a 
sight  of  the  bush-smashers.  But  while  the  ground  was 
hard  trampled  all  about,  rough  tree  trunks  often  worn 
smooth  by  the  rubbing  of  giant  bodies,  nothing  did  we 
see  but  baboons. 

Presently,  when  the  declining  sun  warned  us  it  was 
time  to  get  out,  I  told  Awala  to  lead  out  straight  across 
the  bush  for  camp,  for  our  course  had  bent  from  east 
sharply  north,  and  apparently  the  short-cut  would  save  us 
a  mile  or  more. 

On  he  led.  As  we  advanced,  the  game  paths  became 
fainter,  and  finally  stopped  altogether,  bang  up  against 
a  solid  wall  of  vines  and  bush,  solid  looking  and  as  dense 
a  mass  in  fact  as  an  ivy-clad  wall.  But  through  it, 
scarce  thirty  yards  away  it  seemed,  was  the  bright  light 
of  the  open  country.  So  through  the  vine  wall  we  began 
cutting  our  way  with  our  knives,  clambering  over  and 
through  them,  up  an  ascent  and  down  a  declivity,  only 
to  find  ourselves  literally  swinging  on  a  network  of  vines 
fifteen  feet  above  another  brook. 

The  air  was  stifling;  the  labor  exhausting;  we  were 
drenched  with  sweat.  But  just  beyond  us  lay  another 
patch  of  daylight  that  lured  us  ahe^d,  —  and  so  other 
gleams  of  light  lured  us  on  over  more  rises  and  drops, 
each  drop  with  a  new  spring  brook  at  the  bottom,  whose 
presence  we  realized  only  by  the  murmur,  except  once 
when  Awala  slipped  off  his  vine  perch  into  one  of  them, 
taking  a  good  ten-foot  drop  and  a  climb  back  up  a  vine, 
a  vine  twisted  and  looking  precisely  like  a  half-inch 
manila  rope. 


fo  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

Oh,  for  the  prehensile  tail  of  one  of  the  baboons 
playing  about  among  the  branches  above  us  and  grima- 
cing their  amusement  over  the  wretched  stagger  we  were 
making  at  their  pet  sort  of  semi-aerial  travel,  or  for  the 
wings  of  the  great  vultures  and  marabout  storks  perched 
in  scores  aloft  on  the  highest  trees,  grimly  weighing  their 
chances  of  fat  picking  against  our  chance  of  escape ! 

While  still  twilight  without,  black  night  was  now 
fallen  within  the  jungle,  and  further  progress  ahead  had 
become  impossible. 

No  alternatives  remained  except  to  pass  the  night 
on  any  part  of  the  wide  vine  hammock  we  liked  to  stop 
on,  or  to  attempt  to  feel  our  way  back  along  the  route  we 
had  come,  —  which  was  not  amusing,  for  we  knew  there 
were  several  points  where  a  slip  through  the  vine  floor 
might  mean  a  broken  leg,  or  worse. 

To  be  sure  we  were  in  a  measure  safe  enough  on  the 
vines,  for  nothing  short  of  a  leopard  could  get  to  us,  and 
I  much  doubt  if  even  he  could,  but  wringing  wet  as  we 
were,  to  stop  there  without  a  dry  change  of  clothing  or 
cover  meant  fever  or  pneumonia. 

So  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  try  to  back-track 
ourselves,  and  back  we  turned.  Sometimes,  through 
small  openings  in  the  leafy  canopy  above  us,  the  young 
moon  helped  us  a  bit,  but  most  of  the  way  it  was  feel 
every  step  of  advance  with  hands  and  feet.  Heads 
bumped  limbs  of  trees,  and  leaves  and  twigs  were  so 
constantly  jabbing  us  in  the  face  that,  to  save  our  eyes, 
we  crept  ahead  with  closed  lids,  until  finally  we  reached 
the  open  game  paths  and  were  lucky  enough  to  win  out 
into  the  open  glades  west  of  the  main  brook. 

It  was  near  nine  o'clock  when  we  reached  camp, 


SEEN  FROM  A  RHINO'S   BED        51 

where  Judd  and  Outram  had  been  signalling  us  with 
shots  and  yells  we  plainly  heard  but  had  not  answered,  — 
no  use,  for  they  could  no  more  have  gotten  to  us  than  we 
to  them. 

The  afternoon  and  night  of  the  third  we  spent  in  the 
lovely  park-like  country  at  the  foot  of  Kibololet.  Here 
I  shot  my  first  topi  bull,  a  beautiful  member  of  the 
family  of  larger  antelope,  unknown  anywhere  between 
Mombasa  and  Uganda,  but  down  there  abundant,  a 
bright  yellow  of  shank,  a  dark  glossy  brown  of  thigh, 
with  a  shade  of  chestnut  roan  on  back  and  ribs  that 
in  certain  lights  glistens  like  highly  burnished  bronze. 

While  stealing  close  within  the  shadow  of  some  bush 
for  the  shot  at  this  chap,  out  slowly  into  the  glade  in 
front  of  me,  two  hundred  yards  away,  came  a  great  bull 
giraffe,  and  then  directly  along  behind  him  trooped 
eight  of  his  mates.  Their  lofty  heads  and  necks  much 
the  color  of  the  surrounding  bush,  above  which  they 
towered  before  entering  the  open,  the  impression  of  their 
approach  was  quite  as  startling  as  if  one  were  to  see  the 
Singer,  St.  Paul,  and  Manhattan  Life  Buildings  strolling, 
Indian  file,  up  Fifth  Avenue.  And  when,  after  watching 
them  for  perhaps  twenty  minutes  browsing  off  the  bush 
tops,  I  bowled  over  the  topi,  all  looked  up  in  surprise 
at  the  crack  of  the  rifle,  but  not  one  moved  until  I  entered 
the  open,  —  and  then  they  lurched  away,  at  about  as 
graceful  a  pace  as  one  might  expect  of  the  Singer  Building 
out  on  stilts. 

The  fourth,  the  last  day  of  our  march  to  the  Mara 
River,  was  to  see  my  first  serious  disappointment  and 
defeat,  in  fact  two  of  them.  We  were  then  entering  a 
section  where  specially  fine  specimens  of  water  buck  are 


52  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

found,  with  horns  nearly  a  fourth  longer  and  wider  of 
spread  than  in  most  other  parts.  Before  nine  o'clock  I 
sighted  the  biggest  water-buck  head  I  had  ever  seen, 
stalked  him,  and  gave  him  a  .405  in  the  shoulder  that 
dropped  him  in  his  tracks,  but  within  a  half-minute  he 
was  up  and  off.  For  two  hours  I  trailed  him  before 
finally  losing  him  in  the  bush,  sighting  him  twice,  but 
both  times  out  of  range.  This  was  annoying,  but  I 
knew  there  were  plenty  more  like  him  and  I  should  have 
other  chances. 

But  a  far  greater  shock  was  in  store.  Next  to  the 
sable,  the  roan  antelope  is  far  and  away  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  rare  of  his  tribe,  and  few  sportsmen  in  these 
days  get  a  chance  at  one,  except  by  making  a  special 
trip  to  some  remote  region  where  they  are  still  found. 
Outram  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  roan  thereabouts, 
north  and  east  of  the  Mara,  but  had  promised  me  a  sight 
of  them  by  a  three  days'  trek  west  of  the  Mara  to  the  crest 
of  the  Isuria  Escarpment. 

And  yet  about  noon,  while  Judd  and  I  were  well 
ahead  of  the  safari  and  within  three  miles  of  the  river, 
strolling  along  a  thin  fringe  of  bush  eight  hundred  yards 
below  us  was  a  great  buck,  strange  to  me  but  quickly 
identified  by  Judd  as  a  splendid  roan.  He  was  all  alone, 
—  no  other  game  near,  —  and  had  not  seen  us,  so  noting 
his  course  angled  toward  us,  down  we  dropped,  flat  in 
the  grass,  and  waited.  On  he  came  until  within  five 
hundred  yards.  Then  fortune  again  favored  me,  —  a 
fly  bit  him,  or  perhaps  a  snake  gave  him  a  scare,  for, 
suddenly,  he  swerved  from  his  course  straight  toward  us, 
and  bounded  another  one  hundred  yards  nearer,  before 
again  settling  down  to  graze.  Apparently  he  was  a 


SEEN  FROM  A  RHINO'S  BED        53 

certain  gift.  Presently,  and  when  within  an  easy  three 
hundred  yards,  he  again  shifted  his  course  and  my  best 
chance  was  come,  for  thereafter  he  would  be  drawing 
away.  My  shot  knocked  him  flat,  and  Judd  yelled, 
"Got  him!  Got  him!  You've  got  your  roan!"  But  in 
an  instant  he  was  up  again,  and  we  saw  that,  firing  at 
him  quartering  as  he  turned,  I  had  only  broken  his  left 
hip.  Before  he  was  fairly  on  his  legs  I  gave  him  a  second, 
this  time  fair  in  the  left  shoulder,  and  down  he  dropped, 
limp  as  an  empty  sack,  and  lay  still.  Then  we  shook 
hands  and  I  slung  my  gun  strap  over  my  shoulder  and 
we  walked  toward  him  —  when,  wonder  of  wonders, 
up  again  he  sprang,  and  before  I  could  again  cover  him 
he  was  out  of  sight  behind  the  fringe  of  bush.  For  five 
hours  we  trailed  him  through  glade  and  bush  with  a 
dozen  of  our  best  boys,  but  to  no  purpose.  Twice  we 
sighted  him  at  long  range  and  twice  I  missed  him,  flurried 
and  short-winded  with  the  chase. 

I  was  heartbroken,  for  no  such  chance  for  a  fine  roan 
was  likely  ever  to  come  to  me  again.  The  next  day  I 
had  twenty  boys  out  from  dawn  to  dark  searching  for 
him,  under  promise  of  a  tempting  reward,  but  all  to  no 
purpose.  And  then  I  was  sorry  indeed  any  of  my  shots 
had  reached  and  torn  his  beautiful  roan  sides! 

The  fact  is,  the  vitality  of  these  African  antelope 
is  past  belief;  their  thick  hides  are  such  tough  shields 
that  only  a  heart,  spine,  or  head  shot  drops  them  to  stay. 
The  very  next  day  I  knocked  two  water  buck  and  one 
topi  flat  as  flounders  at  two  hundred  and  seventy-five 
yards  with  three  successive  shots.  There  they  lay  mo- 
tionless while  the  herd  of  mixed  game  scampered  away, 
so  lay  for  at  least  five  minutes  until  my  calls  for  the 


54  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

boys  to  come  and  get  the  meat  roused  both  water  buck, 
and  off  they  bounded.  And,  come  to  the  topi,  I  even 
found  the  great  .405  ball  that  had  passed  through  his 
heart  had  stopped  well  within  the  skin  of  the  opposite 
side,  —  a  shot  that  would  have  passed  clean  through 
an  elk. 

Outram's  little  fifteen-pound  cross  between  an  Irish 
and  a  bull  terrier,  Pugge,  caught  up  with  one  of  the  buck 
and  detained  him,  but  not  for  long.  Pugge's  tactics  are 
always  practical,  if  not  scientific;  disdaining  fence  for  a 
throat  grip,  she  always  goes  for  the  first  mouthful  she 
can  get,  usually  fetching  up  with  a  leap  that  fastens  her 
teeth  so  near  an  actual  tail  hold  that  she  hangs  well  above 
and  clear  of  reach  of  the  sharp  hind  hoofs;  and  so  often 
have  I  seen  her  dangle  and  swing  for  five  to  ten  minutes 
till  the  buck  went  down.  But  this  old  water  buck  was 
too  strong  and  artful  for  her,  and  after  tossing  her  about 
for  a  few  minutes,  vainly  trying  to  reach  her  with  hoofs 
and  horns,  he  sidestepped  and  swung  her  a  smash  against 
a  thorn  tree  that  put  her  out  of  the  day's  running. 

Then  the  cunning  old  buck  entered  a  belt  of  heavy 
jungle  two  or  three  miles  in  length  and  a  half-mile  broad, 
impassable  to  man  except  on  buffalo  paths,  and  along 
these  for  two  and  a  half  hours  Outram  and  I  tracked  him, 
ourselves  bent  double  or  on  hands  and  knees,  beneath 
boughs  and  vines,  the  buck  by  turns  leaping  water- 
holes,  entering  the  brook,  and  tramping  up  or  down  it, 
doubling  on  his  own  tracks,  passing  out  to  the  open  as 
if  to  cross  a  glade,  and  then  slipping  back  into  the  jungle 
a  few  yards  away,  all  shrewd  tactics  to  throw  us  off  his 
track,  —  so  shrewd  they  deserved  to  win,  as  at  last  they  did. 

But  the  old  bravo's  escape  was  not  for  long.     The 


SEEN  FROM   A  RHINO'S  BED        55 

very  next  morning  about  eight  o'clock  I  shot  a  rather 
good  topi  bull,  with  seventeen-inch  horns,  cunning  as  a 
serpent,  that  after  an  hour's  painstaking  stalk  compelled 
me  to  shoot  at  four  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  a  head-on  shot 
that  luckily  caught  him  in  the  centre  of  the  forehead. 

While  the  boys  were  removing  the  head  and  skin  I 
took  a  circle  for  bush  buck,  and  within  five  hundred 
yards  of  where  we  had  lost  my  wounded  water  buck  the 
day  before,  found  his  head,  spine,  and  a  few  ribs,  the 
carcass  eaten  the  night  before  by  lion,  and  quarters  and 
shoulders  later  toted  off  by  hyena.  His  identity  was  past 
question,  for  one  of  the  ribs  showed  fracture  by  the  bullet 
that  passed  through  his  lungs.  And  he  was  a  good  one 
too,  — horns  27  inches  high  and  19  inches  in  spread,  the 
tip  of  one  horn  splintered,  whether  in  some  battle  for 
mastery  of  his  herd  or  in  his  last  night's  finish  fight  with 
lion,  I  could  only  guess. 

While  taking  this  buck's  head,  I  heard  a  shot  a  half- 
mile  away  from  Judd's  .450.  Returned  to  camp  at  noon, 
I  learned  he  had  sighted  a  lioness  at  two  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  in  the  edge  of  the  bush,  perhaps  the  one  that 
had  retrieved  my  buck,  and  had  wounded  her,  but  had 
felt  it  imprudent  to  follow  her  into  the  dense  bush  she 
was  in  until,  if  badly  hit,  she  had  stiffened  of  her  wound. 

At  4  P.  M.  he  and  I  went  out  with  our  gun  bearers  on 
a  prowl  for  her,  he  with  a  .450,  I  with  a  twelve-bore  and 
buckshot,  the  bearers  with  spare  rifles.  We  easily  found 
where  she  had  passed  on  into  the  jungle  and  for  half  an 
hour  were  able  to  follow  her  spoor  along  buffalo  paths. 
But  not  a  drop  of  blood  could  we  find.  Then  we  lost 
all  sign  and  had  to  give  her  up.  Nor  was  I,  personally, 
deeply  grieved.  In  the  semi-twilight  of  the  bush,  never 


56  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

able  to  see  more  than  thirty  feet  in  any  direction,  half 
the  time  with  ducking  heads  (to  avoid  entanglement  with 
vines  and  thorns)  that  prevented  all  outlook  ahead  or 
about,  the  situation  impressed  one  as  unconducive  to 
longevity. 

Returned  to  camp  at  dark,  another  bit  of  luck  devel- 
oped, —  Outram  had  just  come  in  with  the  head  of  the 
second  of  the  two  water  buck  I  shot  the  day  before. 
While  no  better  than  twenty-one  inches  in  height  and 
sixteen  inches  in  spread,  the  horns  were  much  more  grace- 
ful than  the  head  of  No.  i.  Curiously,  Outram  had 
found  the  head  and  close-picked  spine  within  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  of  where  No.  i  had  been  found  —  so,  obviously, 
two  lion  had  dined  well  at  my  expense  the  night  before, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  hyenas  that  wait,  snarling,  for  the 
lion's  leavings,  the  jackals  that  wait  upon  the  hyenas, 
and  the  vultures  and  marabout  storks  that  permit  the 
jackals  scant  time  for  more  than  a  hasty  nibble. 


FICKLE   EQUATORIAL  FASHIONS 

TWENTY-THREE  full  days  en  route  from  Nairobi 
to  the  Mara  River,  our  first  week's  permanent  camp 
there  was  a  constant  delight. 

The  camp  was  pitched  on  a  high  bluff,  forty  feet  above 
its  margin,  beneath  the  dense  shade  of  its  heavily  timbered 
banks,  just  at  the  foot  of  rippling  rapids  that  sang  us  to 
sleep  at  night  and  greeted  us  with  good  cheer  at  our 
dawn  awakening. 

Down  to  this  point  the  Mara  is  a  hastening,  hustling 
mountain  torrent  of  the  sort  that  gives  one  the  impression 
of  pounding  along  at  its  best  pace  for  fear  another  may 
steal  its  logical  tributaries;  but  here,  become  swollen  and 
opulent  of  its  thrift  and  push,  like  Dooley's  "Magnate" 
preparing  to  "sell  out  the  trust  to  the  trustful,"  the  Mara 
steadies  to  a  lounging,  indifferent  gait  for  a  dignified 
tender  of  its  golden  flood  to  Victoria  Nyanza  and  Nile- 
side  commerce. 

About  us  in  early  morning  and  late  evening  the  taller 
trees  were  alive  with  monkeys,  —  monkeys  blue,  gray, 
black  and  white,  tawny,  monkeys  tiny  as  kittens  and  big 
as  men,  the  long-haired  and  the  short-furred,  the  younger 
apparently  out  as  investigation  committees  on  our  intru- 
sion, swinging  by  their  tails  as  low  as  they  dared  in  wide- 
eyed,  wrinkle-browed  study  of  our  doings,  the  elders 
usually  grouped  aloft  in  solemn  conclave,  receiving  and 
debating  the  reports  of  their  committees.  Obviously  we 

57 


58  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

brought  them  a  lot  of  shocks,  the  greatest,  the  discharge 
of  a  gun  in  or  near  camp,  which  sent  them  barking  to 
cover  for  hours.  But,  oddly,  our  next  greatest  startler 
to  them  was  my  daylight  cold  sponge-bath,  which  always 
set  their  teeth  clicking  and  voices  madly  chattering, 
whether  of  sympathetic  chills  at  thought  of  a  cold  dip  so 
early,  or  of  superstitious  fear  of  what  must  have  looked 
in  the  early  dawn  like  a  ghost-white  figure  disporting  itself 
in  the  water  beneath  them,  we  could  only  conjecture. 

It  is  a  country  of  wondrous  strange  contradictions,  is 
Africa.  Near  the  end  of  the  little  rains,  everywhere  about 
us  in  the  open  glades  were  the  loveliest  green  meadow 
lands,  brilliant  with  flowers  still,  but  the  wild  timothy 
tops  browning  a  bit,  the  home  farmer's  hint  to  oil  and 
sharpen  his  mower,  and  the  cricket's  chirp  and  the 
droning  chorus  of  abounding  insect  life  helped  to  fix  the 
season  as  a  waning  home  June.  And  yet  cast  the  eyes 
aloft  to  the  broad  belt  of  deciduous  forest  lining  the  river 
and  they  there  lingered  lovingly  on  every  brilliant  hue  with 
which  the  early  frosts  of  Autumn  paint  all  northern  tree  life 
except  the  pines  and  firs,  while  the  ground  beneath  the 
canvas  veranda  of  my  tent  boasted  a  carpet  of  fallen  leaves 
bright  tinted  and  variegated  as  any  come  of  a  Persian 
loom. 

Thus  on  the  Mara  does  thrifty  Autumn  hustle  Summer 
aside  and  get  the  first  cuddle  in  the  soft  lap  of  Spring. 

Days  never  to  be  forgotten  were  those  first  seven  on 
the  Mara.  Up  at  4  A.  M.  for  a  cold  dip  and  light  break- 
fast ;  off  as  soon  as  you  can  see  your  rifle  sights ;  at  five,  a 
faint  flush  in  the  east,  the  usually  tipsy-standing  Southern 
Cross  then  properly  perpendicular  in  the  southern  sky, 
while  the  two  "pointers"  of  the  Dipper  are  straight  down, 


FICKLE   EQUATORIAL   FASHIONS     59 

indexing  the  position  of  the  dear  old  Polar  Star  we  there 
never  saw,  both  Dipper  and  Cross  low  down  on  the  hori- 
zon, almost  nestled  in  the  treetops;  a  well-oiled  rifle  in 
your  hand;  your  Somali  spare  gun  bearer  trailing  behind, 
and,  far  behind  him,  four  shenzi  porters  to  carry  your 
day's  bag,  and  your  syce  and  mule ;  off  through  dripping 
dew-bejewelled  grass  that  under  the  sun's  first  rays  glitters 
like  a  sleet-clad  northern  landscape, —  slowly  slipping  along 
the  edge  of  thickets,  thumb  on  hammer,  ringer  in  trigger 
guard,  every  sense  tense  for  whatever  the  next  turn  of  the 
bush  may  bring  you  in  arm's  length  of  —  lion,  rhino, 
buffalo,  or  any  sort  of  buck;  always  working  carefully  up 
wind,  trying  to  tread  lightly  as  a  cat;  out  into  an  animal 
kingdom  virgin  of  man  and  his  wiles  as  Adam  found  the 
denizens  of  Eden ;  out  and  up,  ever  rising  toward  some  ridge 
crest,  shapes  tiny  and  of  vast  bulk  springing  ghost-like  out 
of  the  half  light,  creeping,  halting,  peering  for  some  trophy 
that  may  win  you  admission  to  the  Valhalla  of  Rowland 
Ward's  record  trophy  elect;  stealing  in  wide  detours  past 
the  undesirable,  to  avoid  startling  them, —  for  set  a  single 
beast  agog  and  off  presently  thunders  everything  on  four 
legs  within  a  thousand  yards  of  you,  notice  to  the  teeming 
herds  near  and  far  that  some  peril  is  at  hand. 

So  on  and  on  you  go,  carefully  scanning  each  new  group 
with  your  glasses,  until  presently  aloft  towers  a  pair  of 
horns  of  majestic  spread  that  marks  a  monarch  worthy 
of  best  craft,  then  up  for  safe  range  you  steal,  crouching 
from  bush  to  tree  and  tree  to  rock,  crawling  belly  tight 
to  mother  earth  through  sheltering  grass  if  all  other  cover 
lacks,  until  presently,  mind  and  muscle  atuned  to  perfect 
concert,  your  cheek  cuddles  close  to  your  rifle  stock  and 
down  goes  your  quarry  of  a  well-placed  shot.  Out  at 


6o  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

once  comes  the  tape  and  quickly  settles  your  fate.  Then 
on  and  on  you  go  throughout  the  livelong  day,  for  a  new 
victory  or  at  least  a  try  for  one. 

While  fine  specimens  of  buck  of  all  sorts  fell  to  our 
guns,  not  a  single  one  of  the  big  fellows  did  either  of  us 
see,  with  the  single  exception  of  the  lioness  sighted  by 
Judd.  And  yet  the  grunts  of  lion  were  heard  about  our 
camp  every  night.  We  dropped  kills  for  them  at  evening, 
but  upon  crawling  up,  behind  anthill  or  bush,  for  a  sight 
of  them  at  dawn,  never  found  anything  but  the  skeleton 
wreck  of  Leo's  repast ;  we  found  their  fresh  spoor,  often  not 
an  hour  old,  entering  jungle  paths,  but  try  to  follow  them 
as  we  might,  stooping,  clambering,  on  hands  and  knees 
among  the  vines  and  thorns,  we  always  failed  to  sight 
them. 

Buffalo  sign  was  thick  about,  often  of  mornings  in  the 
wet  grass  so  fresh  it  was  almost  unexplainable  why  we 
had  not  seen  them,  and  always  we  found  the  bush  a  net- 
work of  their  paths. 

All  up  and  down  the  river  hippo  paths  worn  from 
three  to  eight  feet  deep  alternated  with  crocodile  slides, 
and  yet,  bar  one  eighteen-foot  crocodile  shot  by  Outram, 
no  hippo  or  crocodile  did  we  see. 

Even  though  these  big  fellows  are  all-night  prowlers 
and  feeders,  lying  up  in  concealment  usually  by  day, 
out  early  of  mornings  and  late  of  nights  as  we  were,  pok- 
ing into  their  retreats  as,  none  too  wisely,  we  often  did, 
it  was  miraculous  how  we  managed  to  miss  sighting  them, 
but  so  miss  them  we  did. 

When  Outram  was  last  on  the  Mara  it  was  impassable, 
booming  bank  full,  but  now  its  waters  were  fallen  to  such 


FICKLE  EQUATORIAL  FASHIONS    61 

an  extent  that  we  were  able  to  ford  the  island  rapid  along- 
side our  camp,  and  by  a  day's  work  of  the  wapagazi 
digging  cuttings  in  the  perpendicular  west  bank  and 
hacking  bush,  to  get  our  saddle  mules  across.  The 
result  well  repaid  us,  for  all  sorts  of  game  were  even  more 
abundant  there  than  north  of  the  river.  Working  into 
the  hills  to  the  west,  we  were  out  no  more  than  three  miles 
before  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  herd  of  Masai  cattle 
in  the  glades  below  a  belt  of  heavy  forest  high  up  on  our 
right.  Riding  toward  them,  in  half  an  hour  we  sighted 
the  Masai  village  and  approached. 

It  was  the  usual  Masai  munyata,  a  tall  and  thick 
zareba  of  thorn,  probably  three  hundred  feet  in  diameter, 
the  long,  low,  round-topped  thatch-and-wattle  huts, 
thickly  plastered,  top  and  sides,  with  cow  dung  that,  dried, 
makes  them  cool  by  day  and  tight  and  warm  by  night, 
ranged  in  a  solid  circle  around  the  inner  wall  of  the 
zareba.  And  every  night  within  this  circle  of  huts  their 
flocks  of  fat-tailed,  piebald  sheep  and  their  herds  of 
sleek,  square-built,  hump-necked  cattle  are  penned,  and 
the  one  gate  of  the  zareba  tightly  closed  and  guarded 
throughout  the  night  against  predatory  neighbors. 

Nor  with  the  gate  rushed  and  the  centre  of  the  village 
occupied  are  the  Masai  at  the  mercy  of  a  native  enemy. 
Each  hut  is  a  tiny  castle,  of  effective  protection  against 
arrow  and  spear.  The  single  doorway  of  each  hut,  in- 
stead of  opening  at  right  angles  to  the  inner  wall,  opens 
laterally  with  it  for  six  or  eight  feet,  when  a  sharp  turn 
opens  to  the  interior.  These  entrances  are  so  low  and 
narrow  that  only  one  person  at  a  time  may  enter, 
crouched  almost  to  hands  and  knees  —  thus,  if  an  enemy, 


62  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

offering  a  hopelessly  exposed  neck  to  the  short  shrift  of 
the  Masai  short  sword,  while  tiny  arrow  loopholes  com- 
mand all  approaches. 

These  Masai  were  once  the  most  powerful  race  of  the 
eastern  plateau,  notwithstanding  they  were  far  fewer  nu- 
merically than  the  Wakikuyu  or  the  Wakamba.  Slen- 
der, graceful,  sinewy  men,  a  light  chocolate  in  color,  with 
regular  features,  often  with  thin,  straight  noses  and  little 
of  the  pendulous  negroid  lip,  probably  the  offspring  of 
some  great  ancient  Galla  raid  and  trek  that  lodged  itself 
among  its  vanquished,  the  Masai  are  the  gentlemen  par 
excellence  of  the  British  East  African  plateau.  Hire  to 
white  men  as  tenders  of  flocks  they  sometimes  do,  but  no 
menial  task,  no  other  form  of  labor  will  they  perform. 
They  plant  no  crops  and  in  diet  subsist  entirely  upon  their 
flocks  and  herds,  now  that  game-killing  by  natives  is 
forbidden  and  in  a  measure  stopped.  Their  chief  diet  is 
mixed  milk  and  blood,  the  latter  drawn  from  the  necks 
of  their  butter-fat  bullocks. 

Our  approach  created  a  sensation.  Lads  herding 
sheep  and  women  fetching  water  from  a  near-by  spring 
flitted  away  through  the  bush  like  shadows,  and  we  were 
halted  some  time  a  hundred  yards  from  the  gate  before  a 
group  of  elder  men  and  young  warriors  came  out,  alert, 
suspicious,  nervously  clutching  their  spears.  Presently, 
however,  they  recalled  Outram  from  old  Boundary  Survey 
days  of  five  years  before,  and,  assured  we  were  not  Ger- 
mans, of  whom  they  hold  a  guilty  fear,  due  to  their 
notoriously  frequent  raids  on  natives  and  settlers  in  Ger- 
man territory,  their  suspicion  was  allayed.  Excepting 
the  members  of  the  Survey  Commission  and  one  lone 


FICKLE  EQUATORIAL  FASHIONS     63 

professional  elephant  hunter,   no  white  men  had  ever 
before  been  among  them,  they  told  us. 

As  none  of  the  men  with  us  spoke  Masai,  we  had  to 
send  back  to  camp  for  an  interpreter.  Upon  his  arrival 
we  learned  the  sultani  (chief)  of  this  munyata  was  young 
Koydelot,  a  handsome  lad  of  no  more  than  twenty-two, 
son  of  the  head  witch  doctor  of  a  half-dozen  neighboring 
munyatas.  Shortly  thereafter  the  elder  came  with  a 
half-dozen  of  his  headmen,  himself  habited  in  a  handsome 
gray  monkey-skin  cloak,  looped  over  the  left  shoulder  and 
covering  him  to  the  thighs.  Gravely  seated  behind  his 
straight-planted  war  spear  upon  a  little  round  six-inch-high 
stool,  carved  from  a  single  piece  of  hardwood,  surrounded 
by  the  skin-clad  group  of  his  bow  and  spear  men,  Koydelot 
was  not  without  a  certain  crude  dignity,  which  he  succeeded 
in  maintaining  until  one  of  the  party  plucked  a  short  blade 
of  grass,  rolled  it  into  a  pellet,  pressed  it  apparently  into 
the  toe  of  his  boot,  exhibited  empty  hands,  made  upward 
passes  over  legs  and  body,  and  then  plucked  it  from 
his  mouth.  Koydelot  rolled  off  his  stool  with  wonder  and 
shied  away.  Indeed,  shortly  thereafter  the  beginnings  of 
a  good  entente  between  us  were  almost  hopelessly  ruined 
when  another  of  the  party  exhibited  to  the  Masai  a  lovely 
full  set  of  teeth,  and  then,  after  a  seemingly  violent 
wrench  at  the  lower  teeth,  showed  an  empty  under  jaw! 
Off  into  the  bush  some  scurried  and  away  from  us  all 
withdrew  in  wide-eyed,  gaping  wonder  and  dread  of 
creatures  with  such  uncanny  attributes.  Nor  did  we 
make  much  further  progress  with  them  till  a  third  got  out 
a  press-the-spring-and-it-flies-shut  tape  measure.  At 
first  most  of  them,  the  women  especially,  seemed  to  take 


64  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

it  as  a  pocket  edition  of  some  sort  of  snake,  but  once 
we  convinced  them  it  had  no  fangs,  each  had  to  have 
his  or  her  play  with  it  for  the  next  half-hour. 

This  meeting  with  the  Masai  solved  for  us  what  had 
been  a  serious  problem.  All  the  time  Judd  could  spare 
was  expired,  and  he  was  then  planning  an  attempt  for  a 
short-cut  to  some  station  of  the  Uganda  Railway,  one 
hundred  and  thirty  to  one  hundred  and  sixty  miles  north 
of  us.  But  to  the  north  and  northwest  intervened  the 
Isuria  and  Lumbwa  ranges,  gashed  with  deep  watersheds 
and  clothed  with  belts  of  dense  forest,  while  to  the  north- 
east lay  the  mighty  uplift  of  the  Mau  and  unknown  dry 
stretches  of  alternating  lava  and  jungle  of  the  Kidong 
Valley.  Without  a  path  or  guide,  either  way  was  sure  to 
be  desperately  hard  and  slow  going.  Four  days  before 
we  had  sent  three  of  our  wapagazi  into  the  northwest, 
hunting  for  some  Masai  munyata,  and  since  they  were 
only  rationed  for  three  days  we  had  begun  to  fear  the  Wan- 
derobo  had  picked  them  up.  Thus  it  was  a  great  relief 
when  we  found  Koydelot  could  give  us  two  of  his  elmorani 
(warriors)  who  knew  a  practicable  route  to  the  Lumbwa 
tribe,  whence  guides  could  be  gotten  to  Lumbwa  station 
on  the  Uganda  Railway. 

When  we  reached  camp  late  that  afternoon,  after  a 
fine  day's  sport  that  yielded  us  several  good  trophies,  we 
found  Koydelot  and  his  court  awaiting  us  with  a  fine 
fat-tail  sheep,  the  usual  native  "backsheesh,"  which 
we  reciprocated  to  the  full  of  its  value  in  beads  and 
"Americani"  (unbleached  cotton  cloth). 

A  lot  of  our  beads,  however,  we  found  unacceptable, 
even  some  of  the  most  brilliant-hued  of  the  lot :  they  were 
not  in  style!  It  is  an  absolute  fact  that  in  no  set  of  the 


FICKLE  EQUATORIAL  FASHIONS    65 

haute  monde  the  world  over  is  fashion  more  fickle  and 
transient  than  among  the  African  savages.  Traders  of 
no  small  means  have  been  ruined,  trekking  into  the  in- 
terior hundreds  of  miles  with  wares  that  proved  unsalable 
at  any  price.  In  the  few  months  of  their  absence  the  fancy 
of  the  ebony  beauties  had  shifted  —  red  or  white  beads 
were  demanded  by  those  who,  previously,  would  look 
at  none  but  blue  beads,  iron  wire  preferred  to  copper  or 
brass,  popular  prints  of  cotton  discarded. 

Indeed,  no  manufacturers  have  a  busier,  harder  study 
for  attractive  new  patterns  than  the  English  and  German 
printers  of  cheap  cottons  for  the  African  trade.  But  it  is 
a  satisfaction  to  find  that  in  plain,  unbleached  cotton 
goods  no  English  or  European  cotton  spinners  have  been 
able  to  compete  with  our  New  England  mills,  whose  goods 
have  held  first  esteem  throughout  Central  Africa  since 
first  introduced,  through  Zanzibar,  way  back  in  the  '6o's, 
and  still  fetch  better  prices  than  the  best  European 
products. 

At  dawn  on  January  n,  Judd  pulled  out  north  with 
Masai  guides,  hoping  to  reach  Lumbwa  in  six  or  eight 
days.  With  him  I  sent  back  twenty-three  of  our  porters, 
reducing  our  safari  to  a  total  of  thirty,  including  Outram 
and  myself.  Sorry  indeed  were  we  to  part  with  Will 
Judd,  as  rollicking,  jolly,  and  able  a  mate  as  man  ever 
had. 

The  day  after  Judd's  departure  we  were  delighted 
to  be  assured  by  one  of  Koydelot's  sons  that  he  could 
guide  us  to  elephant,  three  days'  march  north  of  west  of 
our  camp,  within  the  great  basin  lying  between  the 
Sotik  and  Kisii  country  and  to  the  south  of  the  Kisii  high- 
lands, delighted  because  we  had  been  under  the  impression 


66  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

there  were  no  elephant  within  much  less  than  a  fort- 
night's march  of  our  Mara  camp.  Nor  had  we  realized 
the  Kavirondo  were  so  near,  a  most  important  fact  to 
us  then,  as  our  supply  of  posho  (native  grain  food  — 
beans,  corn,  or  millet)  was  nearing  total  exhaustion,  and 
the  Kavirondo  grew  abundant  crops  of  metama  (Egyptian 
corn). 

With  a  lot  of  mixed  porters,  exhaustion  of  posho  is 
always  a  most  serious  thing,  no  matter  how  abundant 
game  meat  may  be.  If  he  can  get  meat,  your  Wakamba 
asks  nothing  else.  Your  Wakikuyu  will  touch  no  kind 
of  meat,  even  to  a  point  of  impending  starvation;  indeed 
when  we  had  already  cut  the  others  to  half  rations  of 
posho  —  a  full  ration  being  one  and  one-half  pounds  per 
day  per  man  —  and  were  giving  them  all  the  meat  they 
could  eat,  our  Wakikuyu  pathetically  pleaded  that  their 
fathers  had  never  eaten  meat  and  that  they  could  not, 
and  full  posho  they  had  to  have.  So  it  was  every  last 
one  of  these  aboriginal  vegetarians  that  we  rushed  back 
to  the  railway  with  Judd.  Your  Mohammedan  Swahili 
will  eat  no  meat  not  properly  halaled  by  one  of  their  own 
faith,  the  throat  cut,  and  the  carcass  properly  bled  before 
death.  Your  Somali  will  touch  no  form  of  food  but  rice 
and  halaled  meat.  Thus,  while  none  of  our  porters  would 
dare  desert  from  the  Mara  camp  for  fear  of  being  bagged 
by  Wanderobo,  we  confronted  plenty  of  trouble  when  the 
posho  gave  out. 

So  we  lost  no  time.  At  dawn  the  next  morning  we 
were  en  route  in  light  marching  order,  leaving  Regal  in 
charge  of  our  base  camp,  all  donkeys,  and  the  spare 
mules.  Our  course  was  almost  due  north,  through  rolling 
hills  and  broad  plains  sloping  up  from  the  main  west 


p 

>< 
d 

o" 
o  o 
>  r* 


Z  <! 

SB 


o 
w  o 


n 


FICKLE  EQUATORIAL   FASHIONS    67 

fork  of  the  Mara  to  the  foot  of  the  Isuria  Escarpment,  a 
vast  black  wall,  inaccessible  at  most  points,  that  stretched 
out  of  our  ken  into  the  horizon  to  northeast  and  southwest. 

Five  miles  out  we  reached  the  munyata  of  Koydelot, 
senior,  who  welcomed  us  with  gifts  of  great  gourds  of 
milk,  which  we  received  but  promptly  turned  over  to  the 
porters  at  our  noon  camp,  as  the  Masai  practice  of  cleans- 
ing their  dairy  vessels  leaves  Masai  milk  impossible, 
save  when  one  sees  it  milked  direct  into  one  of  his  own 
vessels,  when  it  is  found  sweet  and  rich  as  the  milk  of 
the  best  Jersey  cow. 

Out  of  the  village  we  were  followed  by  fifteen  or  twenty 
of  Koydelot's  young  elmorani,  keen  I  should  shoot  them 
some  buck,  whose  skins  they  prize  as  cloaks,  the  back 
sinews  furnishing  their  best  bow  strings.  In  the  next 
three  miles  I  bowled  over  several,  to  the  great  delight 
of  the  young  warriors. 

Before  we  parted  with  this  fine  lot  of  young  fellows, 
I  got  some  excellent  pictures,  the  only  ones  I  have  ever 
seen,  of  a  group  of  Masai  bowmen.  The  youngster  in 
front  of  the  group  is  Akuna,  our  guide,  a  son  of  Koy- 
delot, pock-marked,  but  lithe  and  graceful  as  a  panther, 
who  on  trail  or  elephant  spoor  for  twenty  days  glided 
ahead  of  me  silent  as  a  shadow,  wise  in  every  form  of 
jungle  lore,  but  in  all  else  simple  as  a  little  child,  pleased 
with  the  skin  and  sinews  of  a  fresh  kill  as  any  woman 
with  a  new  Worth  dress,  and  going  into  ecstasies  over  an 
empty  cigarette  tin.  On  spoor  fierce-eyed,  intent,  tire- 
less, relentless  as  a  leopard,  his  light  cloak  wrapped  tightly 
in  a  narrow  roll  about  his  waist,  his  knob-kerrie  and  short 
sword  stuck  in  his  girdle,  his  bow  held  perpendicularly 
to  protect  the  bow  string  from  the  wet  grass,  the  leather 


68  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

quiver  at  his  back  carrying  his  firesticks  and  heavy 
poison-tipped  war  arrows,  Akuna's  sinewy  figure  was  a 
model  of  an  aboriginal  militant  worthy  of  the  best  sculptor. 

Shortly  before  our  noon  camp  we  passed  yet  another 
munyata,  the  last  below  the  escarpment,  and  throughout 
our  nooning  its  parti-colored  flocks  and  herds,  grazing 
hither  and  yon  about  us,  appearing  and  disappearing 
among  the  trees,  were  ever  producing  effects  like  a  gigan- 
tic animated  kaleidoscope. 

During  the  afternoon  I  bagged  a  fine  pair  of  twenty- 
seven-inch  impala  horns  and  a  twenty-two-inch  "Tommy." 

The  ascent  of  the  escarpment  late  in  the  afternoon, 
while  no  more  than  1,300  feet,  was  so  much  like  scram- 
bling up  a  bowlder-studded,  thorn-clad  Gothic  roof  that 
it  pumped  all  the  wind  out  of  even  the  hardy  Outram  and 
took  the  last  ounce  of  go  out  of  the  loaded  porters. 

The  summit  of  Isuria  we  found  a  lovely  rolling  coun- 
try, with  wide  areas  of  tender,  sweet  grass,  shoulder- 
high,  and  thick  mats  of  heavy  timber,  where  herds  of 
beautiful  topi  often  stood  within  a  hundred  yards,  watch- 
ing us  in  wide-eyed  surprise. 

Our  tents  were  up  none  too  soon  that  evening,  for 
directly  we  were  sheltered  a  heavy  thunderstorm  broke. 
And  scarcely  had  the  last  hoarse  rumbles  of  the  storm 
died  on  our  ears,  about  midnight,  than  they  were  followed 
by  the  deep  bass  grunts  of  a  lion  prowling  near  —  in  fact, 
so  very  near  that  all  the  porters,  who  were  sleeping  by 
fires  well  sheltered  in  the  dense  bush,  came  hurrying  into 
the  centre  of  the  camp  and  there  spent  the  night,  within 
the  narrowest  circle  of  fires  we  had  to  build  at  any  time 
on  that  safari.  All  about  us  old  Leo  circled,  so  circled 
all  night  long,  keen  of  hunger  or  wonder,  one  or  the  other. 


FICKLE   EQUATORIAL  FASHIONS     69 

Often  one  could  hear  a  twig  break  beneath  his  stealthy 
tread,  but  not  once  did  he  pass  within  the  ring  of  our 
firelight.  Toward  dawn  he  gave  us  up  as  a  bad  —  prob- 
ably too  fiery  —  job  and  stalked  grumblingly  away. 

And,  by  the  way,  it  was  in  a  ravine  of  this  escarpment 
that  Outram  had  a  particularly  curious  experience.  Out 
after  buck  meat  for  the  porters,  beneath  a  slightly  leaning 
thorn  tree  he  saw  writhing  about  the  tall  grass  tops  what 
he  took  to  be  the  head  and  neck  of  a  python,  and  fired  at 
it.  At  the  shot,  a  big  leopard  bounded,  snarling,  away 
into  the  bush.  Advancing  beneath  the  tree  to  see  what 
the  leopard  had  been  crouched  over,  he  was  sur- 
prised to  find  nothing  but  a  narrow  area  of  trampled 
grass  and  much  absolutely  fresh  blood,  so  sprinkled 
about  that  evidently  it  was  not  come  of  the  wound  he  had 
given  the  leopard.  Suddenly,  while  standing  puzzling 
over  what  the  leopard's  kill  could  have  been  that  might 
be  made  away  with  so  completely,  hide,  meat,  and  bone, 
he  became  conscious  of  a  steady  drip!  drip!  drip!  on  his 
coat  sleeve,  and,  upon  lifting  his  arm,  discovered  a  stream 
of  blood  running  down  it !  Glancing  aloft,  his  puzzle  was 
solved.  There,  in  a  high  fork  of  the  tree  at  least  eighteen 
feet  from  the  ground,  were  cleverly  wedged,  heads  to 
tails,  their  legs  even  artfully  intertwined  to  steady  them, 
the  carcasses  of  two  freshly  killed  young  topi  antelope, 
weighing  forty  to  fifty  pounds  each.  Obviously  the  leo- 
pard, after  a  strenuous  morning  winning  and  safely  stow- 
ing his  day's  repast,  had  been  resting  himself  beneath 
the  tree  and  lapping  the  dripping  blood  as  an  appetizer. 

About  seven  o'clock  that  morning,  while  riding  a 
short  distance  ahead  of  the  safari,  I  sighted  four  eland, 
two  of  them  splendid  bulls,  magnificent  great  fellows  that 


70  IN  CLOSED   TERRITORY 

looked  as  big  as  beeves.  With  no  means  of  stopping  the 
noisy  advancing  porters  without  alarming  the  eland,  I 
had  to  chance  a  three-hundred-yard  shot  at  the  biggest 
bull.  He  staggered,  bounded  into  the  air,  and  hit  the 
ground  going  at  a  sharp  trot,  like  that  fast  gait  in  the  elk 
which  few  ponies  can  overtake  until  it  is  broken  into  a 
gallop,  after  his  speeding  mates.  All  were  out  of  sight 
almost  in  an  instant,  with  no  chance  for  a  second  shot 
but  a  snap  at  the  second  bull  that,  unfortunately,  hit  him 
in  the  hind  quarters  and  did  not  down  him.  Hurrying 
to  the  turn  of  bush  where  they  had  disappeared,  I  took 
up  their  trail,  plain  to  follow  as  a  wagon  road  for  two  miles 
through  the  dripping  grass,  great  splashes  of  blood  on 
the  tall  grass  tops  proving  a  high  shoulder  shot  in  the 
big  bull  and  distinguishing  his  tracks  from  the  others. 

Then  the  eland  passed  through  a  series  of  glades 
criss-crossed  in  every  direction  that  morning  by  topi  and 
other  game  that  soon  had  my  Somali  shikari  and  myself 
puzzling,  for  already  the  blood  sign  from  the  congealing 
wound  had  lessened  until  we  could  no  longer  find  it  at 
all.  At  this  juncture  up  came  one  of  my  Masai,  Habia, 
from  the  safari.  His  spooring,  then  and  thereafter  for 
hours,  was  masterly,  better  than  I  have  ever  seen  done  by 
Indian  or  cowboy. 

Crouched  and  bent  until  he  was  carrying  his  nose  close 
to  ground  almost  as  a  hunting  hound  on  cooling  scent,  at 
a  short  distance  wholly  hidden  in  the  tall  grass,  he  glided 
about  the  glade,  amidst  the  network  of  trails,  pausing 
seldom,  for  no  more  than  five  minutes  before  he  signalled 
me  to  him,  and  plucked  and  showed  me  a  blade  of  grass 
that  showed  a  blood  splotch  scarcely  bigger  than  a  pin 
head.  Then  off  down  the  spoor  he  started  and  along  it 


FICKLE  EQUATORIAL  FASHIONS    71 

held,  up  hill  and  down,  through  tall  grass,  winding  through 
broad  belts  of  jungle  on  game  trails  and  off  them,  along 
the  rocky  bottoms  of  dry  ravines,  into  and  through  or 
up  or  down  water,  never  at  fault  for  an  instant  except 
where  the  bull  had  taken  water,  at  a  pace  that  kept  me 
blown  almost  to  the  point  of  collapse,  for  full  four  hours. 
Early  it  became  evident  that  the  bull  had  elected  to  play  a 
lone  hand  in  the  game  of  losing  us,  and  had  cut  away  free  of 
his  mates.  Often  we  heard  him  a  few  yards  away  through 
the  bush,  but  only  once  again  did  I  sight  him,  about  noon, 
at  the  top  of  a  long,  steep  ascent  that  apparently  had 
overtaxed  even  his  energies,  where  he  stood  with  hanging 
head,  his  shoulder  wound  plainly  showing.  But  before  I 
could  free  myself  of  the  mesh  of  bush  we  were  leaving,  off 
again  he  trotted  and  I  had  to  content  myself  with  a  snap- 
shot that,  hitting  him  in  the  hip,  only  served  to  hasten 
his  pace. 

And  right  there  I  realized  the  chase  for  me  was  use- 
less. There  was  no  more  than  another  two  or  three 
miles'  go  left  in  me.  Besides,  while  Habia  and  Awala 
could  slip  through  the  bush  silent  as  ghosts,  do  my  best 
I  was  now  and  then  breaking  dry  twigs  or  stumbling  on 
toe-entangling  vines,  and  notwithstanding  the  two-hun- 
dred-and-six-pound  handicap  with  which  I  had  left 
Nairobi  was  then  reduced  to  close  to  one  hundred 
and  eighty  pounds. 

Obviously  the  only  chance  was  to  leave  my  eland  to 
them,  in  the  hope  that  Habia  might  stalk  near  enough  to 
plant  a  finishing  poisoned  arrow  —  which,  freshly  pre- 
pared, can  be  relied  on  to  kill  in  twenty  minutes,  if  it 
penetrates  the  flesh  at  all.  So  on  I  sent  them  and  back 
toward  the  waiting  safari  wearily  I  tramped  until  I  met 


7*  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

my  syce  and  mule,  which  Outram  had  thoughtfully  sent 
after  me,  guided  by  Akuna. 

It  was  long  after  dark  when  my  two  trailers  reached 
camp  that  night,  —  empty-handed.  Twice  had  they 
sighted  the  bull,  but  approach  him  they  could  not.  It 
was  a  heavy  disappointment,  for  in  these  days  it  is  not  so 
many  chances  a  man  has  for  such  a  superb  eland. 

Early  the  next  morning  our  path  led  us  to  the  first 
munyata  west  of  the  escarpment.  After  a  few  words 
from  Akuna,  the  Masai  received  us  cordially  and  the 
women  brought  us  great  gourds  of  milk. 

Beneath  a  wide-spreading  thorn  tree  just  without  the 
gate  of  the  village,  the  chief  and  a  dozen  or  more  of  the 
elders  sat  about  the  embers  of  a  fire,  working  overtime, 
harder  by  far  than  usual,  for  all  seemed  to  be  busy  at 
once  lending  advice  in  soft-toned  Masai  chorus  to  a  youth 
of  eighteen,  who,  by  great  effort,  was  contriving  to  make 
one  knife-stroke  about  every  five  minutes  on  a  stave  of 
wood  he  was  shaping  for  a  bow. 

All  were  skin  clad,  in  so  far  as  they  were  clad  at  all, 
except  the  chief  himself,  who  sported  an  antiquated  red 
and  yellow  laprobe  of  a  pattern  I  have  observed  to  be 
popular  among  the  Wakamba,  from  whom  it  was  prob- 
ably traded  or  looted,  and  an  extraordinary  bracelet  of 
claws  and  teeth,  flint  and  obsidian,  whether  a  charm  or 
an  insignia  of  rank  I  could  only  guess.  Short  and  lean, 
bearded,  with  regular,  sharp-cut  features,  a  complexion 
so  light  (for  even  a  Masai)  that  he  was  almost  sallow, 
and  great  slumbering,  speculative,  introspective  dark 
eyes  that  occasionally  lit  up  with  ominous  fires,  dignified, 
reserved,  quiet,  the  chief  bore  a  remarkable  resemblance 
to  Jay  Gould! 


WAKAMBA  WARRIOR 


MARA  RIVER  CAMP  AFTER  A  BIG  KILL:     PORTERS'   FIRES  SURROUNDED  WITH 

ROASTING  MEAT 


FICKLE   EQUATORIAL  FASHIONS    73 

Halting  at  this  village  for  a  half-hour's  rest  of  the 
porters,  the  youthful  bowmaker  and  his  advisory  com- 
mittee of  older  bowmen  prompted  me  to  propose  an 
archery  prize  competition.  At  first  they  failed  to  catch 
the  idea,  but  when  I  stuck  a  silver  rupee  (about  the 
diameter  of  a  half-dollar  piece)  in  the  end  of  a  split  stick 
planted  in  the  ground  at  twenty  yards  from  a  line  I  drew, 
and  explained  that  each  might,  in  turn,  have  a  single 
shot  until  the  rupee  was  fairly  hit,  the  hitter  to  have  it, 
all  but  the  chief  skurried  within  the  munyata  for  their  bows 
and  quivers. 

And  back  presently  they  came  on  the  run,  every  male 
armed,  from  seven-year-old  toddlers  to  seventy-year-old 
doddlers,  and  we  lined  them  up  for  turn  shooting. 

One  wrinkled  and  palsied  old  scrap  of  parchment, 
palsied  in  all  but  his  greed,  finding  himself  landed  at  the 
extreme  foot  of  the  line,  promptly  squatted  with  a  great 
sheaf  of  close  upon  twenty  arrowrs  before  him,  and  began 
a  continuous  but  shockingly  wild  flight  of  them  in  the 
general  direction  of  the  target.  And  stop  him  we  could 
not,  short  of  actual  physical  violence.  Nor  did  we  long 
try,  for  it  was  only  too  apparent  that  the  target  was  much 
safer  from  him  than  were  we  or  his  lined-up  mates;  for, 
seeming  himself  to  realize  that  nothing  but  luck  and  quick 
work  could  win  for  him,  he  began  trying  to  shoot  so  fast 
that  at  least  a  third  of  his  arrows  flew  from  his  bow  string 
at  every  angle  from  the  true  line  of  fire  but  a  flat  one, —  flew 
feebly,  to  be  sure,  but  still  hard  enough  to  put  an  eye  out. 

So,  with  no  more  notice  of  him  by  his  competitors 
than  a  chorus  of  indulgent  laughs,  the  match  proceeded 
fairly,  none  of  the  others  seeking  unfair  advantage. 

The  average  Masai  bow  is  from  five  to  six  feet  long, 


74  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

and  it  takes  three  fingers  and  a  strong  wrist  and  shoulder 
to  draw  the  heavy,  iron-tipped,  thirty-inch  war  and  big 
game  arrows  to  the  head.  But  for  this  contest  they  used 
the  shorter  blunt-headed  arrows  that  serve  them  for 
bagging  birds  and  rabbits. 

Quickly  it  became  evident  the  prizes  must  fall  to  some 
lad  or  youth,  for  all  the  men  shot  badly,  close,  to  be  sure, 
but  inches  out  of  line  or  over  or  below  the  target.  With 
their  ancient  best  amusement  and  most  profitable  occupa- 
tion of  predatory  raids  on  their  neighbors  largely  stopped 
for  several  years,  and  game-shooting  forbidden  by  law 
and  made  dangerous  for  them,  no  incentive  remains  for 
the  mature  elmorani  to  keep  in  practice  with  the  bow. 

One  youngster  no  more  than  eight  or  ten  years  old 
proved  a  wonder:  his  first  shot  grazed  the  top  of  the  first 
rupee,  his  second  hit  it  fairly,  his  third  shot  barely  missed 
the  second  by  a  hair,  and  his  fourth  sent  it  spinning,  hit 
plumb  centre.  He  was  the  son  of  the  six-foot-six  elmoran 
who  stands  at  the  front  of  the  line  in  the  photograph,  to 
whom,  in  dancing,  shouting  glee,  he  brought  and  gave 
his  shining  trophies  and  then  clung  cuddling  proudly  to 
one  giant  paternal  leg. 

And,  after  the  rupees  had  been  duly  examined  and 
admired  by  all  present,  none  but  Old  Parchment  showing 
any  envy  or  heartache  over  his  own  failure,  good  sports- 
men and  true  all  but  him,  the  trophies  were  prudently 
handed  over  by  the  father  to  the  boy's  mother  for  safe- 
keeping, and  on  to  the  little  victor's  own  youngsters  they 
doubtless  will  one  day  be  passed. 


VI 
ALONG   UNMAPPED   NILE   SOURCES 

WE  descended  to  and  crossed  the  Maggori  River 
at  an  altitude  of  4,750  feet,  there  a  tumbling, 
broiling  hill  torrent  thirty  feet  wide  pouring  down 
towards  Victoria  Nyanza  out  of  the  Lumbwa  highlands, 
through  broad  belts  of  heavy  timber. 

A  few  miles  south  of  the  Maggori,  rising  toward  the 
divide  between  that  stream  and  the  Oyani  River,  the  main 
southern  tributary  of  the  Kuja,  our  path,  bending  slightly 
north  again,  led  us,  true  to  Akuna's  promise,  into  abun- 
dant elephant  sign.  In  fact,  from  i  p.  M.  to  5  p.  M.,  when 
we  reached  the  numerous  munyatas  of  Toroni's  Loita 
Masai,  elephant  spoor  was  crossing  our  path  at  right 
angles  every  few  hundred  yards,  some  only  a  few  hours 
old.  Great  limbs  growing  twenty  feet  from  the  ground 
and  torn  down  that  very  morning,  at  one  point  blocked 
our  trail,  while  here  and  there  in  the  long  grass  broad 
paths  were  tramped  deep  and  smooth  as  if  made  by  the 
marching  hosts  of  all  Tammany's  most  portly.  Our 
food  supply  was  so  low  we  could  not  then  afford  to  stop 
on  any  uncertainty;  so,  since  our  trail  was  bending  north 
to  a  half-circle  of  a  big  basin  toward  which  the  elephant 
tracks  headed,  I  detached  Akuna  and  Habia  with  orders 
to  try  to  locate  them  and  to  intercept  us  if  they  found 
them. 

That  night  we  camped  in  a  high  hill  basin  about  the 
slopes  of  which  were  scattered  a  half-dozen  of  Toroni's 

75  ' 


76  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

munyatas.  We  had  made  about  sixty-five  miles  in  our 
three  days  out  from  our  Mara  camp,  heavy  marching 
for  loaded  porters. 

Shortly  after  dark  our  trackers  came  in  with  word  the 
elephant  had  moved  down  into  the  great  long  basin  to 
the  north  and  northeast  of  Toroni's.  Hereabouts  there 
was  practically  no  small  game  and  we  were  wholly  out 
of  posho,  but  having  still  enough  fresh  meat  for  the 
porters  for  one  day,  we  decided  to  have  our  first  try  for 
elephant  the  next  day. 

Off  at  5  A.  M.,  in  twenty  minutes  we  were  sopping  wet 
from  the  alternating  belts  of  dripping  grass  and  jungle  that 
cover  that  country,  jungle  and  heavy  timber  along  the 
streams,  grass  upon  the  hillslopes. 

We  started  on  our  saddle  mules,  but  soon  had  to  dis- 
card them,  notwithstanding  they  were  as  sure-footed  as  the 
best  of  their  usually  safe-going  breed.  In  fact,  mine  never 
dumped  me  but  once,  and  then  was  thoughtful  enough  to 
choose  as  the  occasion  a  particularly  hot  day  and  as  the 
place  the  middle  of  a  cold  stream,  so  I  forgave  him. 

But  that  basin,  as,  indeed,  is  practically  all  good 
elephant  country  now  remaining,  was  impossible  mounted. 
The  shortest  grass  was  a  sort  of  wild  timothy  five  to  six 
feet  high,  its  lower  third  a  thick  mat  man  or  beast  could 
scarcely  kick  his  way  through,  and,  what  was  far  worse, 
the  ground  beneath  on  all  hillslopes  was  thickly  strewn 
with  hidden  bowlders,  big  and  little,  going  afoot  in  which 
meant  constant  slipping  and  stumbling  that  acutely 
wrenched  every  muscle  in  you,  while  to  attempt  it  mounted 
meant  to  court  the  certainty  of  a  broken  leg  or  arm. 

Then  here  we  ran  into  our  first  true  elephant  grass, 
ten  to  fifteen  feet  high,  that  shuts  one  in  like  a  wall  and 


ALONG   UNMAPPED   NILE  SOURCES    77 

that  one  can  scarcely  wallow  through  at  all  except  on 
elephant  paths. 

But  such  paths  we  soon  struck,  all  with  more  or  less 
fresh  sign,  and  picked  and  followed  the  freshest  sign,  — 
sometimes  going  twenty  minutes  through  grass  where  we 
could  not  see  two  yards  in  any  direction,  except  straight 
into  the  zenith;  sometimes  along  dusky  jungle  paths, 
where  even  the  zenith  view  was  shut  out  from  us;  some- 
times into  tall  forest,  where  wide  areas  were  trampled 
bare  of  undergrowth  and  hard  and  smooth  as  a  floor,  vast, 
dim-lighted,  sylvan  assembly  chambers  of  the  great 
pachyderms;  often  across  acres  of  flat  marsh-land  or 
spring-sodden  hillside  where  advance  was  only  possible 
by  treading  carefully  between  elephant  footprints,  a  slip 
into  any  of  which  meant  a  plunge  to  one's  waist  or  neck 
in  cold  water,  for  not  even  the  pig  loves  mud  more  than 
the  elephant. 

On  and  on  for  six  hours  we  by  turns  slipped,  plod- 
ded, wallowed,  and  crawled,  lured  and  buoyed  by  the 
almost  warm  sign,  and  then,  all  in,  pumped  of  wind  and 
strength,  had  to  give  it  up  and  strike  for  a  short-cut  to 
the  Mara  trail,  which  we  reached  half-way  back  to 
the  Maggori. 

And  when  that  night  the  two  Masai  whom  we  had 
sent  on  upon  the  spoor  dropped,  dead  spent,  by  our  camp 
fire,  it  was  with  disgust  we  learned  that  a  scant  hour 
after  we  left  them  they  had  sighted  two  big  tuskers. 

That  morning  our  porters  had  no  breakfast,  but  an 
easy  four  hours'  march  brought  us  down  to  the  villages  »f 
the  Jalou  Nilotic  Kavirondo  that  thickly  line  the  hill- 
slopes  of  the  Oyani  and  the  Kuja  for  miles,  a  superb  race 
physically  who  dwell  in  easy  plenty  amid  their  numerous 


78  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

flocks  and  herds  and  broad  russet-brown  fields  of  ripen- 
ing Egyptian  corn. 

There  we  counted  on  abundance,  and  learning  the 
head  Sultani  dwelt  in  a  large  stone-walled  village  we 
could  see  lying  three  miles  away  across  the  Oyani,  hurried 
Saiba,  our  headman,  and  some  porters  across  to  buy  met- 
ama  (flour  ground  from  Egyptian  millet).  But  after  an 
hour  and  a  half  they  returned  with  startling  word  from 
the  Sultani  that  there  was  no  flour  in  the  valley,  that  all 
their  stock  had  been  sold  and  delivered  the  day  before  to 
two  muzungu  (Europeans)  recently  come  up  from  the 
lake  with  a  big  safari,  one  a  "medicine  man,"  and  then 
camped  three  miles  below  us. 

Our  situation  was  desperate,  and  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  an  appeal  to  their  generosity,  whoever  they 
might  be  —  the  first  white  men  we  had  heard  of  since 
leaving  Nairobi. 

So  Outram  and  I  jumped  on  our  mules  and  made  our 
best  pace  to  the  camp,  which  we  found  on  a  high  hilltop 
at  least  a  mile  from  the  river.  So  located,  indeed,  were  all 
the  Kavirondo  villages,  to  our  surprise,  high  and  far 
back  from  the  Oyani,  and  all  looked  newly  built. 

As  we  approached,  we  quickly  recognized  it  as  a  boma 
of  Government  officials,  by  the  uniformed  Askaris  on 
sentry  duty  and  lolling  about  their  huts. 

Come  to  the  two  ample  tents  of  the  muzungu,  we 
were  received  by  two  gentlemen  with  quiet,  "How  do 
you  do's,"  just  as  if  we  were  fellow  clubmen  whom  they 
had  been  having  whiskey  and  soda  with  daily  all  their 
lives,  the  very  hall-mark  of  that  best  bred  type  of  Briton 
who  stubbornly  refuses  to  be  surprised  by  anything. 
Such  a  startling  apparition  as  visitors  in  the  remote  wilds 


20 

o  •< 


3   r? 

° 


H   p, 


>   O 


ALONG  UNMAPPED   NILE  SOURCES    79 

of  Texas  or  Dakota  (when  they  were  happy  enough  to 
possess  such  wilds  as  these)  inevitably  would  have  wrung 
out  a  startled  but  wholly  genial,  "Well,  stranger,  where 
in  hell  did  you  come  from,  and  who  might  you  be  any- 
way?" 

And  then,  even  before  we  had  gotten  into  a  pair  of 
quickly  proffered  easy  chairs,  followed  that  simple  but 
ever  welcome  ritual  of  good-fellowship,  "Fancy  you  men 
could  do  a  drink.  Boy!  lete  (bring)  whiskey  and  soda!" 

As  soon  as  I  had  safely  lodged  half  the  bubbling  pale 
amber  contents  of  my  glass  where  it  could  n't  get  away, 
I  introduced  Outram  and  myself  by  name  —  and  got 
another  pair  of  "How  do  you  do's,"  but  no  names. 

Then,  pressed  by  the  need  of  our  hungry  porters,  I 
explained  we  were  on  safari  from  Nairobi,  out  of  posho 
and  trekked  over  from  the  Mara  to  buy  some,  but  had 
found  the  Kavirondos'  surplus  exhausted.  This  promptly 
brought  a  kind  offer  of  enough  to  do  us  for  the  moment, 
and  expression  of  the  opinion  we  would  be  unable  to  buy 
the  fifteen  or  twenty  loads  we  wanted  short  of  the  Govern- 
ment boma  at  Kisii,  three  days'  journey  to  the  northeast. 

Just  where  we  were  we  had  not  known,  except  that 
we  were  somewhere  on  the  Oyani  River,  near  its  head, 
we  had  imagined.  So  that  when,  shortly,  we  learned  that 
the  lake  port  of  Karungu  was  only  eight  hours  distant, 
we  were  astonished  to  realize  that  we  were  no  more  than 
fifteen  miles  in  an  air  line  from  Victoria  Nyanza,  and  well 
to  the  west  of  Port  Florence,  the  western  terminus  at  the 
lake  of  the  Uganda  Railway. 

Then  when  presently  one  gentleman  inadvertently, 
and  I  fancy  much  to  his  annoyance,  revealed  half  of  the 
carefully  guarded  secret  of  the  identity  of  both  himself 


8o  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

and  the  other,  by  referring  to  his  companion  as  "Dr. 
Baker,"  this  hint,  and  the  location  of  camp  and  native 
villages  far  from  flowing  water,  disclosed  the  whole  matter 
to  me.  It  was  a  new  "  Sleeping  Sickness  Camp,"  one  of 
the  chain  of  camps  the  Administrations  of  the  British 
East  and  Uganda  Protectorates  are  surrounding  the  west, 
north,  and  east  ends  of  the  lake  with  in  a  desperate  at- 
tempt to  check  the  spread  within  their  territory.  They 
also  aim  to  alleviate  as  far  as  possible  the  sufferings  of 
the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  victims  of  this  dread  and 
most  mysterious  disease. 

Of  the  cause  of  the  sleeping  sickness  or  of  any  effective 
cure  or  means  of  prevention  of  its  spread,  little  more  is 
now  known  than  when,  a  few  years  ago,  it  swept  down 
upon  the  lake,  apparently  out  of  the  Congo  jungles,  the 
most  relentless  and  the  worst  of  all  the  physical  scourges 
medical  science  has  had  to  battle  with. 

Practically  all  known  of  it  is  that  it  is  carried  by  a 
variety  of  the  tsetse  fly  which  is  never  found  beyond  a  few 
hundred  yards  of  the  lake  or  rivers;  that  the  tsetse  which 
has  not  bitten  a  victim  of  the  disease  is  harmless;  that 
the  tsetse  quickly  disappears  when  areas  of  lake  shore  or 
stream  side  are  denuded  of  all  timber,  bush,  and  long 
grass,  and  that,  therefore,  water  margins  may  be  made 
comparatively  safe  by  such  denudation  over  a  belt  of 
adequate  width;  and  that  the  fly  may  be  wholly  escaped 
by  removal  one  to  two  miles  from  lake  or  stream  margin. 

As  for  the  best  treatment  so  far  discovered,  it  is  ad- 
mittedly no  more  than  alleviating. 

With  these  scraps  of  useful  information  gained,  the 
Governments  are  doing  their  best,  concentrating  the 
infected  on  islands  that,  like  lepers,  they  are  never  per- 


ALONG   UNMAPPED   NILE  SOURCES     81 

mitted  to  leave,  or  assembling  them  in  isolated  hospital 
camps  under  the  most  able  medical  attendance,  and  re- 
moving the  uninfected,  en  masse,  to  highlands  beyond 
known  fly-infested  areas. 

Already  hundreds  of  thousands  have  died  of  it,  nor 
is  its  spread  anywhere  really  checked.  It  is  creeping  north 
and  east  from  the  lake,  down  into  German  and  Portuguese 
territory,  invading  the  boundaries  of  Rhodesia.  Great 
islands  like  the  Sessi  group,  and  vast  strips  of  the  main- 
land that  a  few  years  ago  carried  a  dense  population  of 
the  intelligent,  thrifty,  and  prosperous  Baganda,  to-day 
own  no  tenants  but  their  dead,  while  their  bountiful 
banana  plantations  and  cotton  fields  have  reverted  to 
howling  jungle. 

Indeed,  unless  means  of  prevention  and  cure  are 
found,  at  any  time  the  sleeping  sickness  may  become  a 
world  problem  of  the  toughest.  Often  the  disease  does 
not  develop  until  a  year  or  more  after  any  possibility  of 
infection.  And  since  the  scoundrelly  little  tsetse  conveys 
it,  some  other  depraved  type  of  fly  or  mosquito  indige- 
nous to  America,  Asia,  or  Europe  may  yet  acquire  a  tiny 
jag  of  infection  from  some  returned  African  dweller  or 
traveller,  returned  apparently  well  but  fallen  a  victim  to 
the  disease,  which  will  serve  to  establish  it  abroad. 

Thus,  undoubtedly,  the  disease  crossed  the  divide 
between  the  Congo  and  lake  watersheds,  —  not  in  a 
poison-laden  fly  but  in  a  victim  of  the  malady. 

Of  its  origin  or  history  in  barbarous,  pestilential 
Congo  nothing  definite  is  known,  except  that  it  has  long 
lurked,  and  worked  there  —  perhaps,  certainly  quite 
conceivably,  a  scourge  directly  caused  by  and  come  as  a 
punishment  for  generations  of  the  most  ruthless  and  reck- 


82  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

less  human  slaughter,  where  thousands  upon  thousands 
of  mutilated  dead  were  left  where  they  fell  to  foul  the 
steaming  jungle  air  and  envenom  the  myriad  local  types 
of  tropical  insect  life.  Indeed,  that  there  may  be  some 
grain  of  fact  in  this  ventured  fancy  is  suggested  by  the 
coincidence  that  the  advent  of  the  sleeping  sickness  in 
Uganda  followed  close  upon  the  heels  of  the  wave  of 
wholesale  slaughter,  by  revolted  Congo  Askaris  and  can- 
nibal Baleka,  that  swept  across  several  thousands  of 
square  miles  of  densely  populated  territory  to  the  west  of 
Lake  Kivu  and  nearly  adjacent  to  Ankori,  Uganda's 
southwest  Province,  where  practically  all  who  escaped 
the  barbarous  invaders  perished  of  hunger  and  of  dis- 
eases bred  of  the  festering  corpses  with  which  villages, 
paths,  and  fields  were  thickly  strewn. 

Early  symptoms  of  sleeping  sickness  are  found  in  the 
swelling  of  glands  at  the  base  of  the  neck,  just  above  the 
collar  bone,  followed  by  enlargment  of  other  glands. 
Usually  the  patient  lives  several  years,  often  five  or  more, 
most  of  the  time  more  or  less  addled  of  brain,  in  the  latter 
stages  frequently  insane.  As  the  disease  progresses,  the 
patient  becomes  greatly  emaciated,  notwithstanding  an 
inordinate  appetite  for  meat.  The  drowsy  sleeping  stage 
is  one  of  the  late  symptoms. 

Fortunately  in  British  territory  only  two  white  men 
have  fallen  victims  of  the  disease,  so  far  as  I  could  learn, 
although  scores  of  Europeans,  officials  and  missionaries, 
have  been  freely  exposed  to  it.  Both  (one  an  attending 
physician  of  the  sick)  returned  to  Europe  for  treatment, 
but  without  avail. 

When  I  remarked  that  I  imagined  they  were  establish- 
ing a  sleeping  sickness  camp,  we  were  told  they 


ALONG  UNMAPPED  NILE  SOURCES    83 

recently  marched  up  from  Karungu  for  that  purpose 
and  would  the  next  day  begin  the  construction  of  a  per- 
manent dispensary,  hospital,  and  administration  build- 
ings. Asked  if  there  were  many  sufferers  from  the 
disease  in  the  valley,  Dr.  Baker  replied  he  had  no  doubt 
he  could  get  in  for  treatment  five  thousand  cases  in  two 
days,  if  he  had  facilities  for  handling  them.  Only  one 
patient  was  brought  in  when  we  were  there,  a  man  of 
powerful  frame,  securely  bound  with  bark  rope,  for  he  was 
mad  as  a  hatter,  with  homicidal  tendency.  Repeatedly 
he  had  tried  to  kill  some  of  his  fellow  villagers,  and  was 
forever  screaming  for  a  chance  at  a  muzungu.  Ankles 
and  wrists  were  raw  of  the  restraining  ropes  that  had 
shackled  him  for  weeks.  He  was  chained  in  a  hut  and 
given  an  opiate. 

The  view  from  the  veranda  of  their  tents  was  lovely, 
down  the  broad,  steep-sloping  valley  of  the  palm-lined 
Oyani  to  its  junction  with  the  Kuja,  on  north  across  the 
Kuja  to  the  tall  blue  crags  of  Mt.  Homa,  west  to  the  lofty 
purple  crest  of  the  Gwasi  range,  the  highest  peak  rising 
immediately  above  the  lake,  and  to  the  perfect  pyramid 
of  Nundewot,  behind  which  lay  Karungu. 

It  was  not  until  after  tea  and  the  pair  had  consented 
to  stroll  over  to  our  tents  for  a  "sundowner," — the  happy 
hour  and  ceremony  for  which  all  prudent  Africanders 
thirstily,  and  often  grouchily,  wait,  for  the  prudent  adjure 
spirits  until  sunset, —  that  I  learned  (and  then  only  by 
bluntly  asking  Dr.  Baker  while  we  were  walking  down 
a  winding  Kavirondo  path)  of  the  second  gentleman  what 
his  modesty  or  habits  of  reserve  had  concealed  —  that 
he  was  Assistant  Deputy  Commissioner  Northcote,  the 
chief  administrative  officer  of  that  district  of  the  Province 


84  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

of  Kisumu.  Though  a  young  man,  for  years  he  had 
been  a  close  student  and  solver  of  native  and  provincial 
problems,  one  of  the  little  group  of  cool-headed,  just- 
dealing,  quick-acting,  hard-hitting  Britons  who,  often 
isolated  among  savage  thousands  many  days'  march 
from  any  outside  support,  with  a  staff  of  not  more  than 
one  to  three  whites,  never  backed  by  more  than  a  handful 
of  native  Askaris,  have  by  their  diplomacy  and  daring 
won  and  are  holding  for  the  Crown  its  east  and  central 
African  Empire. 

And,  although  one  of  the  younger  members  of  the 
administrative  corps,  Mr.  Northcote  is  by  no  means  one 
of  the  least  distinguished.  For  it  was  he  who,  while  in 
charge  of  the  Kisii  Boma,  himself  received  a  spear  stab 
from  a  rebellious  native  that  started  the  recent  Kisii  revolt, 
but  stubbornly  held  out  till  forces  arrived  adequate  to 
hammer  the  Kisii  into  submission. 

Finding  our  camp  pitched  on  a  low  bench  only  three 
hundred  yards  from  the  Oyani,  Dr.  Baker  advised  us  to 
move  at  least  a  mile  south  of  and  two  hundred  feet  above 
the  river,  for  safe  escape  of  flies  and  mosquitoes,  good 
advice  on  which  we  promptly  acted. 

The  next  morning  the  chief  of  several  Kavirondo 
villages,  old  Agile,  came  to  our  camp  decorously  robed 
in  a  red  blanket  and  crowned  with  a  tiara  of  beaded 
leather,  the  diadem  of  this  insignia  of  royalty  being  a  gray 
stoneware  ointment  pot,  its  mouth  bound  tightly  to  the 
centre  of  his  forehead  and  its  body  standing  straight  out 
from  the  head,  giving  him  the  appearance  of  a  two-legged 
stub-horned  unicorn. 

Nor  were  blanket  and  tiara  all  of  his  gaudy  regalia, 
for  on  the  back  of  his  head  he  wore  a  great  brown  sun 


ALONG  UNMAPPED  NILE  SOURCES    85 

helmet  that  no  more  was  permitted  to  change  its  angle 
than  was  the  tightly  bound  pot  or  his  stony  set  features 
their  expression.  So  tightly  did  the  helmet  cling  to  its 
fixed  angle  that  we  suspected  it  was  attached  to  the  tiara 
and,  thus,  an  integral  part  of  it. 

With  Agilo  came  a  dozen  or  more  of  his  head  men, 
superb  great  fellows  black  as  ink,  several  well  above  six 
feet,  muscled  like  finely  trained  athletes,  with  thirty- 
three-inch  waists  and  forty-six-inch  chests,  all  naked  as 
they  were  born  save  for  portieres  of  grease-sodden  ringlets 
that  dangled  about  necks  and  faces  and  innumerable 
brass  and  iron  wire  bangles,  covering  often  the  major 
part  of  arms  and  legs. 

There  came  with  him  a  string  of  totos,  perhaps  another 
dozen,  just  a  few  of  the  more  recent  evidences  of  his  pre- 
dilection for  paternity,  boys  and  girls,  most  of  them  so  tiny 
it  was  a  miracle  how  their  slender,  wobbly  little  shanks 
contrived  to  tote  about  their  great  pot  bellies. 

There  were  also  a  half-dozen  matrons  and  maids  carry- 
ing baskets  of  metama  flour,  the  posho  we  so  badly  needed, 
all  in  the  Kavirondo  full  dress  of  their  station,  the  maids 
wearing  nothing  but  their  amiable  smiles  and  a  slender 
string  of  beads  about  the  waist,  the  matrons  each  dis- 
tinguished by  a  little  four-inch  tuft  of  cow-tail  hair  pen- 
dent, aft,  from  a  like  string  of  beads. 

Innocent,  these  ebony  beauties  —  and  extraordinary 
beauties  of  figure  many  of  the  young  maids  and  matrons 
are  —  innocent  physically  and  mentally  of  costume  and 
all  that  it  means  as  was  Mother  Eve  herself,  not  even  a 
decade  of  contact  and  acquaintance  with  the  white  race 
resident  along  the  lake,  and  its  highly  elevating  and  refin- 
ing influences,  has  served  either  to  induce  Kavirondo 


86  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

women  to  clothe  their  nakedness  or  to  surrender  an 
integrity  to  strict  virtue  no  clothed  race,  red,  yellow, 
black,  or  white,  can  boast.  To  this  day  few  Kavirondo 
women  will  have  any  man  except  one  of  their  own  blood, 
and  him  only  after  due  observance  of  the  Kavirondo  mar- 
riage ritual,  a  formal  surrender  of  her  by  her  parents  for 
value  received  in  cattle  or  in  sheep. 

Posho  in  sight,  Outram  quickly  got  out  and  attrac- 
tively displayed  our  remaining  stock  of  "trade  goods." 
The  "American!"  was  already  exhausted,  parted  with  in 
return  for  the  "backsheesh,"  in  sheep,  milk,  and  honey, 
brought  by  the  Sultanis  of  different  Masai  munyatas. 

But  our  ten-pound  tin  of  beads  still  remained  nearly 
intact,  big  beads  and  little,  strung  as  bracelets,  anklets, 
and  necklaces,  beads  of  glass  and  of  porcelain,  red,  white, 
and  blue,  pink,  green,  and  amber,  beads  gilt  and  sil- 
vered —  a  glittering  store  of  coveted  treasure  the  first 
glimpse  of  which  drew  from  old  Agilo  a  few  brief,  sharp 
orders  to  one  and  another,  spoken  in  the  rolling  roar  of 
mouth-pouting,  tongue-wobbling,  blubbering  labials  with 
which  Kavirondo  communicate  confidences,  that  soon 
wrought  wonders. 

Out  of  this  posho-less  land,  within  half  an  hour  naked 
women,  young  and  old,  came  ambling  into  camp  with 
baskets  of  metama,  and  active  barter  began.  Some 
wanted  rupees  —  probably  such  only  as  were  short  of 
liquid  funds  to  pay  their  annual  hut  tax  of  Rs.  3  —  but 
few  could  resist  the  temptation  of  such  a  rare  chance  of 
acquiring  stunning  new  full-dress  costumes  as  was  afforded 
by  the*  heaps  of  tiny  shining  gauds  piled  at  Outram's  tent 
door.  And  such  master  of  native  foibles  he  proved  that 
by  night  we  had  acquired  twenty  loads  of  metama  (one 


THE  VONGONIA  OR  "SAUSAGE"  TREE:  WITH  THE  RIND  OF  THE  FRUIT  NATIVE 
HONEY  BEER  is  FERMENTED 


KAVIRONDO  WAR  DANCE 
"His  OSTRICH  PLUMES"  AND  A  KAVIRONDO  WARRIOR 


ALONG  UNMAPPED  NILE  SOURCES    87 

thousand,  two  hundred  pounds)  at  a  cost  of  about  a  cent 
a  pound.  And  in  this  price  figured  liberal  donations  of 
"backsheesh,"  to  Agilo  in  coin  of  the  Protectorate  and 
to  others  in  trinkets. 

Indeed  so  pleased  were  the  Kavirondo  with  their 
traffic  that  in  the  afternoon  Agile's  son  led  to  our  tents  a 
group  of  young  warriors,  all  armed  and  gorgeously  decked 
in  war  dress,  himself  mounted  bareback  on  a  bridled 
br indie  steer  and  wearing  his  father's  war  bonnet,  a  two- 
story  mass  of  superb  black  ostrich  feathers,  with  a  circle 
of  white  ostrich  feathers  sticking  out  at  right  angles  from 
the  top  of  the  second  story,  while  another  wore  a  gorgeous 
war  bonnet  made  of  grayish  yellow  monkey  skin,  tall  as 
a  grenadier's  busby  and  shaped  much  like  one. 

Up  before  us  they  danced,  singing  a  chorus  of  wel- 
come, occasionally  led  by  His  Ostrich  Plumes, —  as  often 
as  he  could  succeed  in  persuading  his  long-horned 
brindle  mount  to  stay  anywhere  in  the  vicinity.  Then 
they  lined  up  and  gave  us  a  war  dance,  some  of  the  more 
striking  poses  of  which  are  shown  in  my  photographs, 
fierce  charges,  individually  and  in  line,  stealthy  approaches 
or  retreats  behind  the  cover  of  their  enormous  shields, 
with  brandishings  of  spears  and  grimacings  of  face 
calculated  to  chill  the  marrow  of  the  boldest  enemy. 

To  this  afternoon's  festivity  Agilo  sociably  brought  as 
generous  a  jag  of  wembe  (native  spirits,  brewed  of  honey 
and  metama)  as  his  system  could  hold,  and  continued  to 
carry  it  to  the  end  of  the  day  without  serious  injury  to 
his  Sultanic  tiara  or  dignity.  And  when  at  our  evening 
parting  I  risked  giving  him  a  modest  jorum  of  gin,  which  I 
told  him  was  a  sample  of  the  sort  of  water  found  in  most 
of  the  streams  in  my  country,  he  wolfed  it  down,  coughed 


88  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

and  spluttered,  and  then  gurgled  to  me  (through  the 
interpreter)  an  earnest  inquiry  as  to  how  many  days' 
march  it  was  to  my  country,  —  whether  the  expression 
of  a  polite  interest  in  my  wandering  or  of  a  keen  apprecia- 
tion of  American  "water"  he  did  not  explain. 

That  night,  January  18,  I  sat  down  to  an  unwonted 
luxury,  a  perusal  of  the  " latest"  news,  as  contained  in 
one  copy  each  of  the  London  Weekly  Times  and  the 
London  Daily  Mail,  both  of  December  18,  come  a  day 
or  two  before  to  Northcote  and  by  him  kindly  given 
to  me. 

Oddly,  camped  there  upon  the  Oyani,  which  is  the 
main  southern  branch  of  the  Kuja,  and  come  recently 
from  the  Mara,  the  two  largest  tributaries  of  Victoria 
Nyanza,  the  mother  of  the  Nile,  a  traveller  for  weeks  along 
and  between  the  Nile's  remotest  sources,  and  in  territory 
still  plotted  as  "unknown"  upon  the  most  recently  pub- 
lished maps,  a  region  a  scant  dozen  white  men  have  ever 
entered,  the  very  first  article  to  catch  my  eye  in  The 
Times  was  an  account  of  the  Royal  Geographical  Society's 
meeting  in  commemoration  of  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of 
Speke's  solution  of  the  world-old  Nile  source  mystery  by 
the  discovery  of  Victoria  Nyanza,  the  crowning  feat  of  the 
many  most  notable  of  his  African  explorations,  begun 
the  year  I  was  born,  1856. 

The  next  day  we  wasted  on  promises  of  Agilo  to  fur- 
nish porters  he  did  not  produce  to  carry  our  posho  to  the 
Mara,  and  for  which  he  was  promised  a  premium  for 
himself  of  Rs.  i  each.  However,  the  delay  gave  us  op- 
portunity for  the  pleasure  of  having  Northcote  and  Baker 
at  luncheon;  and  while  we  had  nothing  better  than  chop 


ALONG  UNMAPPED  NILE  SOURCES    89 

boxes  to  serve  as  table  and  seats,  and  a  menu  I  am  sure 
Oscar  would  have  improved,  whether  our  guests  enjoyed 
it  or  not,  I  know  Outram  and  I  did. 

During  luncheon  Northcote  cracked  almost  to  a 
shatter  our  hope  of  elephant,  by  telling  us  that  while 
there  were  probably  three  to  four  hundred  elephant  rang- 
ing between  the  Kisii  Highlands  and  the  Maggori,  the 
Masai  on  the  east  and  the  Kavirondo  on  the  west,  the 
big  tuskers  were  largely  shot  out  by  poaching  ivory 
hunters  from  German  territory;  of  course,  we  might 
with  rare  luck  strike  a  good  one,  but  the  herds  were  kept 
so  constantly  on  the  march,  by  movements  of  the  native 
population  densely  crowding  around  them,  and  their 
country  was  so  nearly  inaccessible,  that  it  would  be  sheer 
luck  if  we  sighted  them  at  all,  no  matter  how  hard  we 
worked. 

However,  despite  this  discouragement,  we  decided  to 
give  them  a  good  try,  and  the  following  day  marched  back 
to  Toroni's,  sending  ahead  of  us  three  men  to  fetch  on 
from  our  Mara  camp  enough  donkeys  to  carry  the  posho 
we  left  with  Northcote. 

That  morning,  ranging  ahead  and  far  to  the  west  of 
the  safari  in  hope  of  seeing  roan,  I  sighted  a  topi  wearing 
what  looked  to  me  a  record  pair  of  horns.  The  best  I 
could  do  was  to  get  a  three  hundred  and  fifty  yard  shot, 
but  down  of  it  he  tumbled,  and,  after  several  ineffectual 
efforts  to  rise,  lay  still.  Having  learned  nothing  yet  of 
experience,  I  turned  to  call  up  my  syce  and  mule,  only  to 
be  nudged  by  my  gun  bearer  and  shown  a  gleaming 
russet  flank  disappearing  into  the  bush. 

Quickly  Habia  picked   up  the   blood-stained   trail. 


90  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

For  three  hours  we  followed  it,  but  never  once  had  he 
laid  down,  and  only  once,  from  a  hilltop,  did  I  sight  him 
with  my  glasses,  drooping  slowly  along  in  the  valley  be- 
neath us;  but  by  the  time  we  could  climb  down  he  was 
gone,  gone  for  good,  as  blood  flow  had  stopped  and  he 
had  reached  a  maze  of  trails  made  by  other  buck. 

Swinging  to  bear  off  toward  Toroni's,  we  had  not 
gone  a  half-mile  before  I  sighted  a  real  prize,  a  Lichten- 
stein  hartebeeste  bull  and  a  fine  big  old  chap.  On  this 
fellow  I  took  no  chances,  and  rained  lead  into  him  until 
he  collapsed  and  lay  still  —  and  at  that  it  took  five  9  m.m. 
soft  nose  Mauser  bullets  to  do  the  work,  notwithstanding 
the  first  was  in  the  shoulder  and  the  second  a  fair  centre 
chest  shot.  His  horns  were  19  inches  on  the  outer  curve, 
7  inches  in  spread,  10}  inches  at  base,  while  from  tip  of 
nose  to  tip  of  horns  he  measured  30 J  inches. 

But,  like  many  another  hard-won,  dear-loved  treasure 
the  Fates  refuse  to  spare  one,  my  ownership  of  the  Lich- 
tenstein  was  so  brief  I  scarcely  had  time  to  get  well 
acquainted  with  it.  That  night  the  head  skin  was  care- 
fully removed  and  skull  and  under  jaw  cleaned,  the  skin 
sheltered  from  the  dew  and  the  jaw  and  skull  and  horns 
placed  on  top  of  one  of  the  boys'  grass  huts,  six  feet  from 
the  ground,  within  a  circle  of  bush  no  more  than  thirty 
feet  in  diameter,  close  about  which  at  least  a  dozen  of  us 
were  sleeping,  the  only  gap  between  huts  and  tents  filled 
in  by  the  tethered  mules,  our  two  dogs  lolling  among  us. 

During  the  night  nothing  unusual  happened,  except 
that  my  boy,  Salem,  sleeping  near  the  mess  fire  and  next 
the  hut  that  held  the  trophies,  awakened  toward  morning, 
heard  near  at  hand  a  soft  leopard  purr,  and,  looking  about, 


ALONG  UNMAPPED  NILE  SOURCES    91 

saw  a  pair  of  glowing  eyes  taking  in  the  camp;  but  the 
two  or  three  firebrands  he  threw  at  it  sent  it  scampering 
away,  and  shortly  he  dozed  off  again. 

But  when  morning  came  the  Lichtenstein  skull  and 
horns  were  gone!  Gone  for  good,  notwithstanding  all 
my  porters  and  a  lot  of  Toroni's  Masai  were  out  all  day 
searching  grass  and  bush  for  them,  gone  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  the  skull  was  stripped  clean  of  meat  except  tiny 
clinging  fragments  that,  altogether,  would  scarcely  surfeit 
a  mouse,  apparently  filched  by  the  leopard  out  of  sheer 
devilment,  for  about  the  boys'  fires  were  many  sticks 
loaded  with  cooking  meat  of  the  day's  kill  —  or  perhaps 
he  had  tasted  their  cooking  and  disapproved  it.  That  it 
was  the  leopard  was  certain,  for  no  tracks  but  his  wrere 
found  near  camp. 

Thus  I  still  remain  the  possessor  of  a  fine  Lichtenstein 
under  jaw  and  head  skin,  but  fear  I  shall  always  lack  a 
skull  and  pair  of  horns  to  fit  it. 

Indeed  in  the  African  bush  one  cannot  be  too  careful 
of  anything  he  values,  else  he  is  sure  sooner  or  later  to 
fall  a  victim  of  one  or  another  of  the  night  marauders  of 
the  jungle.  While  most  of  the  night  prowlers  are  after 
meat,  alive  or  dead,  to  the  hyena  all  is  fish  that  enters  his 
net:  boots,  leggings,  or  gun  cases,  are  to  him  attractive 
types  of  entrees,  while  bridles,  saddles,  or  curing  hides 
are  pieces  de  resistance  he  appears  to  adore.  Really,  after 
learning,  on  wholly  trustworthy  authority,  of  an  incident 
of  the  joint  Anglo- German  Boundary  Survey  four  years 
ago,  I  am  puzzled  to  fancy  what  can  be  safe  against  mighty 
hyena  jaws. 

One  evening  Herr  Hauptmann  Schlobach,  the  Imperial 


92  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

German  Commissioner,  had  some  meat  cut  up  on  the  lid 
of  a  fifty-pound  chop  box  that  stood  immediately  before 
the  door  of  his  tent.  In  the  morning  the  box  was  gone, 
but  search  soon  discovered  deeply  imprinted  hyena  tracks 
which,  followed,  led  to  the  missing  chop  box  lying  full 
eighty  yards  outside  the  camp,  its  lid  licked  clean,  deep 
teeth  marks  at  one  corner  showing  how  it  had  been 
lifted  and  carried! 


OUR  two  Masai  and  several  of  Toroni's  were  sent 
out  at  daylight  on  a  prowl  for  fresh  elephant 
tracks,  but  returned  after  dark,  worn  to  a  frazzle 
by  their  fourteen  hours'  plod  through  grass  and  bush, 
with  news  that  all  the  sign  was  several  days  old  and  showed 
movement  south  and  east  toward  the  Maggori  River. 

In  the  afternoon  Toroni  paid  us  a  visit,  accompanied 
by  a  score  of  his  headmen  and  followed  by  a  small  delega- 
tion of  his  wives  and  children,  seventeen  of  the  wives  and 
more  of  the  children  than  I  took  time  to  count,  the  wo- 
men and  children  chanting  a  chorus  of  welcome  to  the 
accompaniment  of  the  jingle,  as  they  danced  up  to  us,  of 
beautifully  made  iron  and  brass  wire  chains,  necklaces, 
and  stomachers.  The  central  figures  in  the  photograph 
are  Toroni,  his  youngest  and  pet  wife,  and  the  Heiress 
Apparent,  a  type  of  Ethiopian  beauty  not  easy  to  beat. 

At  first  I  took  their  coming  as  a  visit  of  state,  but  was 
soon  made  to  realize  that  their  real  purpose  was  to  seek 
medical  attendance. 

Whoever  had  preceded  us  there  I  do  not  know,  but 
it  must  have  been  some  amiable  white  man  who  fed  them 
sugar  or  chocolate  as  medicine.  For,  although  about  as 
sturdy  and  sound  looking  a  lot,  from  old  to  young,  as 
could  be  picked  from  any  people,  all  were  sufferers  of 
something  and  in  a  desperate  bad  way  of  it,  according  to 
their  story:  all  must  have  dawa  (medicine)  and  get  it 
quick  to  be  safe  of  living  the  day  out. 

93 


94  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

With  a  medicine  chest  that  held  nothing  but  perman- 
ganate of  potash,  bandages,  quinine,  calomel  and  salts, 
and  little  indeed  of  these,  I  was  up  a  stump.  But,  since 
something  must  be  done,  I  launched  boldly  out  upon  the 
to  me  uncharted  sea  of  diagnosis,  all  the  time  racking  my 
brains  for  schemes  to  husband  our  precious  little  store  of 
medicines. 

The  first  prescription  I  ventured  on,  a  dose  of  salts, 
gave  me  a  hint  —  the  patient  made  a  shocking  wry  face 
over  it.  So  to  the  next  two  I  gave  quinine  and  made 
them  bite  and  chew  the  pills,  and  to  the  third,  a  wrinkled 
old  boy  with  a  slight  bark  off  the  shin,  I  applied  an 
extra  strong  solution  of  permanganate  that  made  him 
howl  —  and  at  the  same  time  served  to  relieve  me  of 
further  demands  for  dawa. 

After  another  forenoon  out,  the  twenty-second  of 
January,  our  Masai  reported  again  all  elephant  trekked 
toward  the  Maggori,  so  in  the  afternoon  we  marched  about 
ten  miles  southeast,  camping  on  a  little  stream  the  Masai 
called  "Looseandgiddy,"  as  near  as  we  could  understand 
them,  two  miles  from  its  junction  with  the  Maggori. 

Before  starting  we  paid  Toroni  a  farewell  visit,  in 
hope  of  a  chance  to  buy  some  swords,  bows,  coats,  snuff 
boxes,  spears,  etc.  But  not  a  thing  did  we  get,  except  a 
photograph  of  the  interior  of  the  munyata,  Toroni  lording 
it  in  the  centre  of  the  picture.  Neither  among  the 
Kavirondo  nor  at  Toroni's  were  we  able  to  get  even  a 
price  set  on  a  single  curio,  much  less  to  buy  one:  tight 
to  their  weapons,  war  panoply,  and  personal  trinkets  both 
lots  stuck. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  munyata  we  found  prac- 
tically all  the  men  and  youths  out  tending  their  flocks 


WATER  BUCK  SHOT  AT  LOOSEAXDGIDDY  CAMP 


SURROUNDED  BY  WILD  ELEPHANT     95 

and  herds,  while  the  ladies  of  the  village  were  divided 
about  equally  into  three  busy  groups. 

At  the  time  it  was  quite  the  height  of  the  local  dry 
season,  so  that  there  was  no  rain  whatever  except  a 
torrential  all-night  downpour  every  third  night,  with  heavy 
thunder  and  lightning,  and  on  each  two  intervening 
nights  two  to  three  hour  showers  that  would  make  a 
stranger  yell  for  a  life  preserver,  all  which  was  not  espe- 
cially conservative  of  the  Masai  architecture. 

Thus  the  first  of  the  three  groups  of  Masai  ladies  we 
encountered  were  engaged  in  gathering  handfuls  of  fresh 
cow  dung  and  plastering  damaged  roofs  with  it ;  the  second 
group,  seated  beneath  trees  near  the  gate,  was  engaged 
in  braiding  rush  mats ;  while  the  third  lolled  in  the  shade, 
alternatingly  dozing  and  watching  Groups  One  and  Two 
—  these  latter,  probably,  the  Sudani's  favorites. 

Inquiring  for  Toroni,  we  were  pointed  to  a  lone  tree 
on  a  hill  two  hundred  yards  away,  where  we  found  him 
stretched  on  a  lion  skin,  frayed  and  worn  of  years  as  was 
he  himself,  sleeping  off  what  must  have  been  an  extra 
heavy  overnight  jag  of  "bang"  or  tembo,  for  the  hour 
of  our  call  was  near  noon.  Indeed  it  was  with  some 
difficulty  we  roused  sufficient  energy  in  him  to  get  him  to 
toddle  back  to  the  munyata  and  stand  long  enough  to  be 
photographed. 

About  our  "Looseandgiddy"  camp  elephant  sign 
from  one  to  three  days  old  was  thick  everywhere;  in- 
dividual tracks,  roads  beaten  smooth  thirty  feet  wide, 
many  trees  one  to  two  feet  thick  and  thirty  to  forty  feet 
high  uprooted,  wallows,  tall  giant  tree  trunks  rubbed 
bare  of  bark  and  stained  or  plastered  with  mud  ten  feet 
from  the  ground,  eleuhant  " rub-downs"  after  a  mud 


96  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

bath.  One  such  tree  stood  immediately  before  my  tent 
door,  bare  of  bark  and  mud-stained  ten  feet  from  its 
base,  and  with  a  heavy  limb  extending  at  right  angles 
from  the  trunk  eleven  feet  from  the  ground  whose  under- 
side was  also  barked  and  mud-stained,  proving  there  was 
at  least  one  worthy  old  giant  tusker  left  living  thereabouts. 

And  yet  for  three  days  we  ranged  the  country  round 
about  from  dawn  to  dark,  south  to  the  Maggori  and 
north  toward  the  Kisii,  without  sighting  anything  but  a 
few  buck. 

The  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  disgusted  by  fruitless 
prowls,  Outram  and  I  lay  in  camp,  when  at  ten  o'clock 
one  of  our  two  Masai  came  panting  in  with  word  he  had 
a  big  bull  marked  down  two  hours  to  the  north,  having 
left  his  mate  on  wratch.  And  off  we  were  trekking  in  five 
minutes  at  the  best  pace  we  could  make  through  grass, 
bowlders,  and  bush. 

Sharp  at  twelve  the  watching  Masai  stopped  us. 
Below  his  hillside  post  lay  the  heavily  timbered  valley  of  a 
tributary  of  the  Oyani,  and  down  into  the  timber  he 
pointed. 

While  light,  the  wind  was  wrong  for  an  approach 
from  that  side,  so  we  made  a  wide  detour  to  the  south 
and  wormed  our  way  through  the  half-mile  of  timber  to 
the  west  side  —  only  to  find  the  wind  had  shifted.  Then 
we  made  another  wide  circle,  recrossed  to  the  east  side 
of  the  valley,  and,  rinding  the  wind  held  fair,  swung 
round  to  a  point  where  we  could  plainly  hear  what  we 
took  to  be  our  bull  —  for  the  boys  had  seen  only  one  — 
alternately  smashing  bush  and  splashing  water. 

Here  Akuna  and  Habia  stripped  themselves  of  skin 
wraps,  sandals,  neck  chains,  and  ear  rings,  of  every- 


SURROUNDED  BY  WILD  ELEPHANT     97 

thing  but  a  bow  and  three  poisoned  arrows  each,  and 
crept  into  the  wall  of  vine  and  foliage.  Outram  and  I, 
followed  by  our  two  gun  bearers,  ourselves  stripped  of 
everything  that  could  catch,  scratch,  or  rattle,  crept  in 
after  them.  By  all  ill  luck  there  were  no  elephant  or 
other  game  paths  where  we  entered,  making  progress 
doubly  difficult. 

While  midday  with  a  blazing  sun  outside,  within  the 
forest  was  dark  as  a  heavily  curtained  room.  Our  pro- 
gress was  like  swimming  through  breakers  —  waves  of 
vines  and  foliage  engulfing  us  at  nearly  every  step.  Some- 
times we  could  not  see  an  arm's  length  about  us,  usually 
no  more  than  ten  feet;  and  when  not  corkscrewing  our- 
selves through  vines  and  creepers,  we  were  clambering 
up  the  one  side  and  glissading  down  the  other  of  moss- 
covered  and  slippery  fallen  forest  giants. 

About  a  hundred  yards  in  we  reached  the  muddy 
stream,  and  there  encountered  redoubled  difficulties. 
Flowing  in  a  straight  or  steep-banked  channel  ten  to 
twenty  feet  deep  and  thirty  to  forty  feet  wide,  it  did  its 
best  toward  boxing  the  compass  every  thirty  yards, 
serpentine  as  the  vines  that  dangle  above  it  or  the 
python  that  twine  in  ambush  upon  its  overhanging 
boughs. 

At  the  first  crossing  Awala,  my  gun  bearer,  slipped  and 
fell  splashing  into  the  creek  fifteen  feet  below,  but  luckily 
at  the  same  instant  the  tusker  had  hold  of  a  bough  he 
wanted  in  his  business  and  was  making  racket  enough 
to  drown  any  noise  short  of  a  shot. 

All  the  time  we  were  drawing  nearer  our  quarry, 
pushing  deeper  toward  the  centre  of  the  bush,  working 
carefully  up  wind,  there  so  light  one  could  scarce  feel  it, 


98  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

the  two  naked  Masai  gliding  ahead  of  us  keen  as  hounds 
and  silent  and  sinuous  of  movement  as  snakes. 

Not  a  sound  had  we  heard  save  from  the  one  point, 
apparently  all  made  by  one  elephant;  therefore  we  felt 
assured  we  were  in  luck  and  had  before  us  a  really  big 
old  tusker,  for  such  usually  flock  by  their  lonesomes  or 
in  pairs. 

After  three  crossings  of  the  brook,  we  were  able  to 
work  along  it  perhaps  eighty  yards,  to  a  place  where 
we  had  to  stop.  Immediately  in  front  of  us,  not  ten  feet 
away  it  seemed  and  we  later  found  it  was  actually  twenty 
feet,  behind  a  solid  wall  of  foliage  was  our  elephant. 

And  no  sooner  were  we  stopped  than,  as  if  as  a  con- 
certed tip  to  us  that  they  had  us  where  they  wanted  us,  all 
about  us  rose  sounds  of  elephant  —  a  smashing  branch 
here,  a  mighty  sigh  of  surfeit  there,  a  plash  in  the  stream, 
the  suck  of  a  great  foot  pulled  from  mud !  We  had  inno- 
cently meandered  into  the  middle  of  a  feeding  herd ! 

They  were  even  behind  us,  and  absolutely  the  only 
direction  in  which  we  could  see  thirty  feet  was  immedi- 
ately to  our  left,  where  a  fallen  log  bridged  the  creek 
from  bank  to  bank  twenty  feet  above  the  water,  and  that 
happened  to  be  the  only  point  from  which  we  did  not 
hear  them. 

If  we  had  tried  we  could  scarcely  have  put  ourselves 
in  a  more  foolish  or  dangerous  position;  for  no  matter 
how  heavy  the  ivory  he  sights,  no  experienced  elephant 
hunter  shoots  in  the  middle  of  a  herd  he  has  unwittingly 
pushed  into;  whichever  way  they  start  they  go,  and  like 
as  not  it  will  be  the  hunter's  way;  while  if  a  wounded  bull 
does  n't  hunt  you  down  as  relentlessly  as  a  fiend,  it  is  an 
even  bet  some  pet  lady  of  his  harem  will. 


SURROUNDED  BY  WILD  ELEPHANT     99 

Neither  Outram  nor  I  had  ever  seen  wild  elephant, 
much  less  hunted  them,  and  what  to  do  was  a  puzzle  to 
us  —  the  more  so  that  questions  and  answers  must  needs 
be  limited  to  silent  signs.  Of  course  we  might  have 
slipped  away  to  probable  safety  across  the  fallen  tree 
trunk,  but  that  was  not  precisely  what  we  had  been  doing 
a  fortnight's  marching  and  scouting  for. 

So  there  we  stood,  still  as  statues,  eyes  roving  aloft, 
ahead,  to  right  and  aft,  not  daring  even  to  cock  a  gun 
(I  had  a  Winchester  .405  in  my  hands  with  a  Mauser 
9  m.m.  in  reserve)  before  catching  a  glimpse  of  a  head} 
expecting  every  instant  to  see  a  giant  trunk  reaching 
down  for  us. 

Of  course  every  move  they  made  sounded  as  if  they 
were  coming;  not  once  by  any  happy  chance  did  we 
hear  any  sound  that  suggested  a  recessional. 

And  so  expectantly  wre  stood,  I  myself,  I  frankly  admit, 
gripping  my  teeth  together  till  they  ached  to  help  hold  my 
nerves  steady;  and  so  round  us  they  fed  and  amused  them- 
selves full  twenty  minutes,  they  in  as  blissful  ignorance  of 
our  presence  as  we  of  what  was  going  to  happen,  or  how 
hard  it  would  happen  when  it  got  well  started. 

After  a  number  of  minutes,  anywhere  from  twenty  to 
thirty  probably,  the  two  Masai  tiptoed  across  the  fallen 
tree  and  slipped  a  few  feet  up  stream,  where  both  crouched 
and  gestured  violently  to  us  to  come  at  once. 

They  were  at  precisely  a  point  to  see  behind  the  screen 
in  front  of  me  and  have  in  view  the  elephant  they  had 
located  as  the  big  bull  they  had  seen  and  reported,  pro- 
vided he  was  not  also  screened  from  the  east. 

At  the  moment  there  was  a  tremendous  racket  all 
about  us,  and  I  thought  I  would  chance  it. 


ioo  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

The  log  was  level  half  the  way,  and  then  rose  in  a  steep 
five-foot  bend  to  its  lodgement  on  the  farther  bank,  green 
with  loose-clinging  wet  moss;  and,  by  all  contraries  in 
this  maze  of  tangle,  not  a  single  vine  or  branch  within 
reach  of  it. 

Out  I  started,  with  gun  transversed  as  a  balancing 
pole,  and  steadied,  I  suppose,  by  our  dilemma,  over  it 
I  safely  got,  notwithstanding  groans  and  yieldings  of  the 
rotten  trunk  that  I  thought  surely  would  dump  me  twenty 
feet  to  the  stream  beneath.  Indeed,  I  had  to  go  so  gin- 
gerly that  the  more  active  Outram  shinned  down  a  vine, 
waded  the  creek,  and  hand-over-handed  up  another  vine 
to  a  close  finish,  both  in  time  and  silence,  with  my  crossing. 

Crept  up  to  the  Masai,  to  our  disgust  we  found  no  more 
was  there  to  be  seen  than  from  our  previous  stand,  though 
we  could  see  fifty  yards  on  our  left,  useful  if  the  elephant 
moved  that  way,  and  on  that  they  had  summoned  us. 

But  scarcely  had  we  taken  in  our  new  position  before 
a  very  hell  of  torment  broke  loose  on  our  front, —  trees 
crashing  as  if  they  were  being  levelled  by  a  cyclone, 
trumpetings  shrill  and  blood-chilling  as  the  storm's 
angriest  voices,  the  dull  thud  of  bumping  colossi  and  the 
sharp  almost  metalic  clash  of  ivory  tusks  grinding  in  the 
mad  stampede,  like  the  rasp  of  giant  swords  in  deadly 
play. 

For  a  half-second,  or  minute,  or  hour,  I  give  it  up 
which,  the  outer  lot  raced  straight  in  on  the  chap  in  front 
of  us,  and  therefore  straight  at  us,  while  there  was  nothing 
for  us  to  do  but  stand  fast,  ready  to  pump  lead  into  the 
faces  of  the  first-comers  on  the  off  chance  of  turning  them. 

Beside  us,  steady  as  rocks,  stayed  the  two  little  Masai, 
each  with  a  slender,  puny  arrow  half-drawn  to  the  head, 


SURROUNDED  BY  WILD  ELEPHANT    101 

safe  enough  in  time  to  kill  but  powerless  to  stop.  Indeed, 
I  recall  a  flying  wish  I  might  be  excused  long  enough  from 
the  more  urgent  duties  of  the  moment  to  snapshot  them 
-  with  every  muscle  of  their  lithe,  graceful  bodies  tense, 
left  foot  advanced,  knees  slightly  bent,  and  sinewy  fingers 
tugging  at  bow  strings,  they  were  for  an  artist  an  ideal 
pose  of  flint-age  warriors. 

Of  course  the  creek  lay  between  us,  which  might  seem 
measurable  protection,  but  it  was  not,  for  elephant  go  up 
and  down  declivities,  almost  in  their  stride,  that  would 
balk  almost  anything  less  agile  than  an  ape. 

But,  come  directly  up  to  "our"  elephant,  of  his  fancy 
or  theirs,  all  whirled  and  thundered  straight  away  from 
us,  angling  to  our  right.  And  back  across  logs  and  creek, 
through  vines  and  scrub,  we  hurdled  as  best  we  could 
for  chance  of  a  sight  of  them. 

But  scarcely  were  we  a  hundred  feet  beyond  the  creek, 
before  directly  back  upon  their  tracks  they  came  at  as  mad 
a  pace  as  their  start,  and  back  to  our  original  stand  by  the 
stream  side  we  dashed. 

These  were  the  most  trying  seconds  of  the  lot,  for  it 
seemed  certain  we  had  to  face  a  straight  onrush  and  turn 
them  or  take  whatever  was  coming  to  us. 

It  proved  to  be  our  day  to  learn  a  lot  of  the  ele- 
phant's whims  and  of  the  downright  stark  miraculous 
things  he  can  do  when  he  likes. 

Stock-still  they  stopped  ten  yards  from  us  (as  we  after- 
wards proved),  but  hidden  from  us  as  before,  and  this 
time  bunched  to  perhaps  a  half-circle  about  us.  Stopped, 
and  for  probably  ten  minutes  there  was  utter  silence  in  the 
forest,  save  for  the  barking  of  monkeys  querulous  of  all 
the  row,  and  then  the  beggars  started  feeding  and  amusing 


102  IN  CLOSED   TERRITORY 

themselves  as  before.  This  continued  for  perhaps  fifteen 
minutes,  when  absolutely  all  sound  again  ceased  and  the 
wood  was  still  of  them  as  if  they  had  all  dropped  dead  — 
which  in  fact,  in  our  ignorance  we  fancied  they  had,  dead 
asleep. 

And  there  we  sat  for  the  larger  part  of  an  hour, 
wondering  what  length  of  afternoon  siesta  is  approved  in 
well-regulated  elephant  families,  in  constant  expectation 
of  renewed  movement  by  some  of  the  herd,  and  in  hope 
of  a  show  for  a  shot  at  a  bull  worth  while.  That  they 
were  still  within  the  toss  of  a  biscuit  of  us  we  would  have 
sworn. 

But  when,  presently,  a  slight  stir  among  the  leaves 
directly  before  Outram  made  us  throw  up  our  rifles,  out 
stepped  Akuna,  who  had  raced  out  of  our  sight  in  pursuit 
of  the  first  stampede  to  track  its  route  and  had  been  cut 
off  from  us  by  their  sudden  return,  with  the  incredible 
intelligence  that  the  elephant  were  gone  —  out  of  the  bush 
and  trekking  away  into  the  north. 

Was  the  Masai  mad  or  were  we  ?  Or  was  it  all  just  a 
dream?  Or  had  we  been  drunk  of  the  excitement  of  a 
real  experience  ? 

Magic!  No  prestidigitator  could  touch  this  vanishing 
act,  from  under  our  very  noses,  of  tons  and  tons  of  ambu- 
lant weight  in  country  where  we  pigmies  could  scarce  stir 
without  causing  noise,  where  nothing  short  of  a  legitimate 
spook  or  a  handily  manipulated  "materializing  spirit" 
could  circulate  without  twig-snapping  and  leaf-rustling! 

And  yet  it  proved  to  be  true.  Gone  were  they  all, 
by  what  miracles  of  stealth  I  doubt  if  the  oldest  elephant 
hunter  knows:  one  has  them  before  him,  almost  within 
gun-barrel  touch,  and  then  they  are  gone!  That  is  all. 


SURROUNDED  BY  WILD  ELEPHANT    103 

And  yet  in  our  case  the  spoor  of  their  leaving  showed 
that,  besides  the  obstacles  of  the  forest  growth,  they  had 
within  fifty  feet  of  us  crossed  a  wide  area  of  mud  into 
which  their  great  bulk  had  stamped  footprints  eighteen 
inches  deep  (one  measuring  twenty-two  inches  from  toe 
to  heel),  and  then  passed  down  into  and  across  the  gravelly 
stream  bed,  that  crunched  to  our  lightest  tread. 

How  many  were  there?  Quien  sabe?  Massed  in 
the  onrush  of  mad  flight,  it  sounded  like  two  thousand  — 
in  fact,  as  well  as  we  could  judge  from  the  tracks  merging 
outside  the  bush  into  a  great,  broad,  improvised  road,  there 
were  between  twenty  and  forty. 

If  seeing  alone  were  believing,  there  were  no  elephant, 
for  not  the  smallest  glimpse  of  one  did  any  of  our  party 
get.  But  there  all  about  lay  bark-stripped  boughs,  the 
wreck  of  their  luncheon,  there  on  the  sturdier  tree  trunks 
within  a  few  yards  of  our  position  was  the  wet  mud  of 
their  " rub-down." 

On  their  spoor  we  followed  until  we  realized  it  was 
useless  to  go  farther — off  they  were,  as  usual  in  such  cases, 
for  a  twenty  to  forty  mile  constitutional,  bearing  toward 
the  Kisii  Highlands. 

So  we  headed  for  camp,  reaching  there  long  after 
dark  just  as  tired  as  if  we  had  really  done  something. 

One  more  day  we  lay  at  the  "Looseandgiddy"  camp, 
circling  the  country  again  carefully  as  far  as  we  could 
reach  until  convinced  all  the  sign  of  elephant  thereabouts 
had  been  made  by  the  departed  herd.  While  profitless 
of  game,  the  day  was  interesting  and  amusing.  I  was 
ranging  to  the  south,  alone  with  Habia,  incidentally  look- 
ing for  a  Lichtenstein  bull  which  I  had  wounded  late  the 
previous  evening  near  camp,  and  which  had  trekked  off 


io4  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

that  way.  A  country  where  tracking  an  individual  buck 
was  impossible,  my  only  guide  to  his  retreat  was  the  birds, 
the  vultures  or  marabouts.  These  carrion  feeders  must 
certainly  be  gifted  with  eyesight  of  high  telescopic  power. 
Drop  a  kill  without  a  bird  in  sight,  and  before  you  get  the 
skin  off,  usually,  the  ill-favored  tribe  are  all  about  you  in 
a  thick  flight  or  glaring  hungrily  down  from  perch  in 
neighboring  treetops.  Rarely  does  a  wounded  buck  travel 
a  mile  before  he  is  spied  by  some  winged  scout  soaring  so 
high  in  the  blue  he  is  an  almost  indistinguishable  speck, 
and  then  it  is  only  a  matter  of  an  instant  when,  by  some 
weird  signal  code  none  but  the  birds  themselves  will  ever 
know,  a  merciless  crew  is  cruising  near  above  him  from 
which  there  is  for  him  no  escape  if  he  once  goes  down, 
for,  by  some  cruelly  cunning  felon  instinct,  their  first 
assault  is  upon  his  dimming  eyes.  Nor,  though  strong 
enough  to  keep  his  feet  for  hours  or  fight  off  attack  if 
down,  may  he  reckon  on  escape  —  all  day  long  they  hover 
above  him,  all  night  long  perch  about  any  bushy  nook 
in  which  he  may  be  vainly  seeking  rest. 

It  is  bad  enough  to  shoot  and  kill  any  harmless  beast, 
only  explainable  as  an  irrepressible  survival  of  aboriginal 
instincts,  bred  into  some  of  us  past  eradication  by  genera- 
tions of  ancestral  skin-wearing,  two-legged  carnivora,  but 
it  is  absolutely  wicked  to  wound  such  and  leave  them,  and 
I  never  leave  a  wounded  beast  so  long  as  chance  remains 
of  reaching  and  finishing  him. 

The  Lichtenstein,  however,  proved  too  strong  for  both 
man  and  bird.  Early,  within  two  miles  of  camp,  a  slow- 
soaring,  circling  crew  of  birds  marked  him  down  for  us 
on  a  high  hillslope,  covered  with  grass,  rocks,  and  bush 
one  could  not  get  through  without  so  much  noise  that 


SURROUNDED  BY  WILD  ELEPHANT    105 

approach  was  impossible.  Off  he  would  go  each  time 
at  such  a  pace  —  shown  by  the  fast-shifting  birds  —  that 
after  two  hours  we  saw  that  further  pursuit  must  be  useless. 

Then  we  swung  across  the  top  of  the  high  hill  we  had 
been  following,  and  I  got  a  superb  view  of  the  great  valley 
of  the  Maggori  River  and  its  wide  watershed,  far  south 
into  German  territory,  the  distant  hills  showing  a  line  of 
smoke  columns  that  told  of  dense  native  settlement. 

Descending  toward  the  river,  suddenly  my  Masai 
stopped  and  bent  and  listened.  We  were  in  good  ele- 
phant country,  sign  all  about,  on  our  immediate  right  a 
deep,  heavily  timbered  gorge,  and  I,  too,  paused  to  listen, 
but  all  I  could  hear  was  the  peculiar  twitter-twitter  of 
a  flitting  flock  of  tiny  birds,  strange  to  me. 

Presently  off  down  hill  darted  Habia,  faster  than  I 
could  follow  over  such  bad  going,  out  of  my  sight  in  a 
half-dozen  jumps.  Whatever  had  started  him  or  whatever 
he  was  after  I  could  not  fancy,  but  on  I  followed. 

Shortly  I  found  him,  at  the  turn  of  a  bush,  bent  over 
gathering  wisps  of  dry  and  green  grass  and  twining  and 
pressing  them  into  a  tight  round  wad.  This  finished  to 
suit  him,  he  ran  to  me  with  it  and  signed  he  wanted  a 
match,  quicker  a  bit  but  no  surer  than  his  own  fire  sticks. 

Puzzled,  but  powerless  to  question  him,  I  gave  him 
matches,  when  he  ran  to  a  big  bowlder  almost  hidden  in 
the  long  grass,  bent  and  parted  the  tangle  at  one  corner 
of  its  base,  crouched,  lighted  his  wad  of  grass,  and  close 
against  the  bottom  of  the  rock  laid  it,  bending  his  face 
close  down  above  the  smoking  grass  and  tightly  hooding 
head  and  smoke  with  his  skin  coat. 

" Hello,"  thought  I,  "here's  a  new  cure  for  influenza," 
for  he  had  been  snuffling  and  coughing  from  a  cold  for  a 


io6  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

day  or  two.  I  started  to  approach,  the  better  to  watch 
him,  when  out  and  all  about  me  roared  a  colony  of  mad 
bees,  wild  for  revenge  upon  the  looter  of  their  hard-won 
honey.  And,  as  usual,  the  real  looter  got  off  far  the 
lightest,  how  I  don't  know  for  he  was  in  a  crowd  of  them 
for  several  minutes  while  I  was  tumbling  down  hill  at  my 
best  pace  —  and  keeping  ahead  of  all  but  their  fastest 
sprinters,  too.  In  fact,  just  for  once  even  Habia  could 
not  catch  me  —  until  I  had  safely  outfooted  the  last  of  my 
other  pursuers.  Nor  did  I  feel  at  all  adequately  compen- 
sated when  he  came  panting  up  to  me  with  four  great 
cakes  of  beautiful  amber  honey,  each  about  twelve 
inches  by  five  inches  in  size,  three  tucked  under  the  arm 
that  held  his  bow  and  knob-kerrie,  the  full  half  of  the 
fourth  down  his  throat,  and  the  other  half  following  as 
fast  as  he  could  ram  it  down  without  quite  choking  to 
death  —  as  also  followed  down  the  same  insatiable  little 
maw  within  the  next  half-hour  practically  all  of  the  three 
other  great  slabs;  a  nibble  or  two  did  for  me,  for  that 
particular  lot  was  of  indifferent  flavor.  But,  flavor  or  no 
flavor,  with  that  little  savage  honey  was  honey  and  stood 
no  more  show  of  prolonged  existence  than  a  smuggled  box 
of  chocolate  caramels  in  a  girls'  boarding  school. 

Lower  down  the  slope  I  sighted  with  my  glasses  a 
herd  of  water  buck  far  away  across  the  Maggori,  two  fine 
heads  in  the  lot.  Supposing  the  river  little  more  there 
than  the  broiling,  overgrown  brook  we  had  crossed  a  few 
miles  higher  up,  I  hurried  down  toward  it,  in  spite  of  a 
torrent  of  b'r'ring,  clucking,  sputtering  Masai  that  was 
plainly  a  stagger  at  protest.  Pushing  through  the  wide 
belt  of  thorn  and  palm  that  lined  the  stream,  I  soon  learned 
the  reason:  before  me  stretched  a  broad  yellow  flood, 


SURROUNDED  BY  WILD  ELEPHANT    107 

over  a  hundred  feet  wide  and  looking  deep  enough  to 
float  a  cruiser  and  mean  enough  to  harbor  crocodiles. 
That  was  quite  too  large  an  order.  But  directly  the  mur- 
mur of  distant  rapids  caught  my  ear.  A  half-mile  down 
stream  we  found  them,  the  river  cascading  down  a  sharp 
descent  among  a  lot  of  big  white  bowlders  —  bowlders 
so  thickly  strewn  in  the  roaring,  plunging  current  I  thought 
I  could  negotiate  them.  To  mid-stream  I  did  get,  but 
there  the  next  jump  was  hopelessly  long  from  a  wet  and 
slippery  take-off,  and  I  had  to  give  it  up.  Nor  did  I  get 
back  ashore  any  too  easily,  for  where,  coming,  I  had 
picked  rough  surfaces  and  edges  to  alight  on,  returning, 
reverse  sides  offered  no  better  than  smooth  slopes  that 
kept  me  moving  quickly  once  I  started;  for,  once  tumbled 
into  it,  no  man  could  have  made  shore  out  of  that  turmoil. 

However,  I  did  not  regret  the  detour  when  I  got  a 
lovely  photograph  of  the  head  of  the  boiling  rapid  and  the 
palms  that  crown  it.  And  I  regretted  it  less  when,  ten 
minutes  later,  taking  shelter  in  bush  from  a  heavy  shower, 
I  found  a  wild  cherry  tree  loaded  with  delicious  fruit  — 
half  ripe,  golden  and  crimson;  ripe,  their  fat  sides  reflect- 
ing all  the  richer,  duskier  ruby  lights  a  decanter  of  port 
flashes  back  at  the  candles. 

Sweet  were  those  cherries  of  flavor  as  they  were 
beautiful  of  favor;  and  there  we  stayed  so  long  eating 
them  that,  what  with  that  delay,  and,  tipped  by  another 
twitter  of  honey  birds,  the  scenting,  robbing,  and  con- 
sumption of  another  bee  treasure  store  by  Habia  (this 
time  found  in  a  hollow  tree),  night  fell  upon  us  so  far 
from  camp  that  none  but  an  aboriginal's  instincts  for 
location  and  direction  could  have  brought  us  in. 

That  day  our  donkeys  arrived  from  the  Mara  and  were 


io8  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

pushed  on  to  Mr.  Northcote's  boma  for  the  posho  we 
had  left  with  him. 

The  next  two  days  we  travelled  east  toward  the  Mara, 
camping  at  noon  of  the  second  day  on  the  wide  reaches 
of  low,  rolling  tableland  that  form  the  crest  of  the  Isuria 
Escarpment,  and  near  its  eastern  brink,  where  it  drops 
almost  sheer  twelve  hundred  feet  to  the  valley  of  the  Mara. 

Burned  the  year  before  of  its  tangle  of  old  grass,  then 
carpeted  with  a  short  two-foot  growth  of  juicy  blue 
grass,  its  tops  already  seeded  and  browning,  stirred  by 
the  breezes  into  ever  shifting  patterns,  reflecting  sunlight 
on  its  crests  and  shadowed  in  its  hollows,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  wild  olives  and  mats  of  bush,  it  looked  like  a 
vast  field  of  richly  embossed  Spanish  leather  tinged  with 
every  hue  of  russet  and  of  green. 

Quick  is  Dame  Nature's  scene-shifting  in  Equatorial 
Africa.  A  fortnight  earlier  rain  was  pouring  nightly; 
vivid  greens  were  everywhere,  ponds  in  every  hollow, 
the  birds  blithely  twittering  their  merriest  spring  songs, 
the  sun  blazing  out  of  a  vault  of  cobalt  blue. 

Returned,  with  the  rain  stopped  no  more  than  four 
days  —  as  we  could  plainly  see  from  our  "  Looseandgiddy" 
camp  —  we  found  busy,  pulsing  Spring  had  made  a  one- 
bound  leap  into  the  restful  lap  of  "Indian  Summer"; 
birds  indolent,  slow  of  flight,  and  little  prone  to  song;  the 
sharp,  high-keyed  metallic  ring  of  the  African  crickets' 
chirp  mellowed  to  lower,  lazier  notes ;  the  drone  of  myriad 
insects;  flights  of  grasshoppers  rising  as  one  walked,  in 
white  clouds  that  looked  like  an  inverted,  uprising  snow 
storm;  a  heavy  haze  over  all  the  land  that  completely 
hid  the  outlook  down  upon  and  across  the  valley  of  the 
Mara  until,  standing  upon  the  edge  of  the  escarpment,  it 


SURROUNDED  BY  WILD  ELEPHANT    109 

seemed  as  if  one  had  stepped  out  upon  some  bold  head- 
land and  was  gazing  off  across  a  fog-hid  sea. 

Out  at  3  P.  M.  Outram  and  I  strolled,  in  different 
directions,  on  the  chance  of  roan  or  eland  and  to  kill 
meat  for  the  camp,  of  which  we  had  had  little  for  many 
days  while  in  the  Maggori-Oyani  country. 

Tiny  thirty-pound  oribi  were  thick  almost  as  the 
grasshoppers,  and  about  as  hard  to  shoot.  Usually  you 
never  sawT  them  until  they  rose  out  of  the  grass  at  your 
feet  and  dodged  away  at  express  speed,  with  low-bent 
heads  all  hidden  from  your  sight  in  the  grass,  rising  occa- 
sionly  in  mighty  leaps  six  or  eight  feet  above  the  grass  tops 
for  a  glimpse  of  whatever  might  be  going  on  around  them. 
Occasionally  you  had  a  glimpse  of  two  little  ears  or  a 
slender  pair  of  four-inch,  straight  upstanding  horns, 
and  caught  through  the  grass  tops  the  gleam  of  great 
liquid  eyes  fixed  upon  you  in  wondering  inquiry,  and  then 
a  graceful,  fourteen-carat  golden-yellow  body  went  alter- 
nately gliding  and  rocketting  past  you.  They  take  shoot- 
ing, do  these  little  oribi,  for  while  sometimes  you  can  get 
a  standing  shot  at  from  seventy-five  to  one  hundred  and 
fifty  yards,  usually  all  you  see  is  the  little  head  and  neck, 
and  it 's  a  guess  for  the  position  of  the  body. 

While  I  saw  no  roan  or  eland,  that  was  rather  a  banner 
evening  for  me  in  shooting.  My  bag  included  one  fine 
water  buck  with  twenty-six-inch  horns,  three  Coke's 
hartebeeste  bulls,  and  two  oribi,  each  killed  with  a  single 
shot  except  the  big  four-hundred-pound  water  buck, 
which  needed  a  second  to  down  him. 

And  never  have  I  seen  such  extraordinary  evidence  of 
the  amazing  vitality  of  African  game,  big  and  little,  as 
there.  The  first  of  the  two  oribi  bounded  away  as  if  not 


no  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

hit,  although  I  knew  I  must  have  struck  it.  Following  the 
line  of  its  flight,  and  leaving  my  gun  bearer  to  try  to  follow 
its  actual  trail,  at  the  turn  of  a  bush  I  saw  an  oribi  stand- 
ing that  I  took  to  be  mine,  but  before  I  could  shoot,  off 
he  bounded,  and  several  more  rose  from  the  grass  and 
followed  him.  Then  off  a  long  way  on  my  left  I  spied 
another  lone  oribi  and  began  stalking.  Presently  it 
trotted  ahead,  and  I  saw  that  it  was  followed  by  what 
I  took  to  be  its  toio  (kid),  nuzzling  eagerly  for  dinner. 
Then  down  lay  the  "doe"  and  into  its  belly  dove  a  little 
yellow  head,  apparently  not  longer  to  be  denied  a  suckle. 

Surprised,  wondering  if  antelope  really  suckle  their 
young  while  recumbent,  I  stole  closer  and  closer,  until 
directly  I  was  astounded  to  find  that  the  pair  were 
the  wounded  oribi  buck  and  my  blood-thirsty  little  Irish 
bull  terrier  Pugge,  who,  unknown  to  me,  had  rushed 
across  from  Outram  at  the  sound  of  my  shot  and  found 
and  tackled  the  wounded  quarry. 

This  buck  there  lay  full  seven  hundred  yards  from 
where  he  had  received  my  full  shot!  And  how  much 
farther  he  might  have  gone  without  Pugge' s  intervention 
I  can  only  conjecture. 

Outram  played  in  better  luck,  for  he  sighted  roan  and 
brought  in  the  only  one  he  contrived  to  get  a  shot  at,  a 
fine  young  buck  but  with  immature  horns. 

That  night  our  camp  looked  like  a  well-stocked  but- 
cher's shop,  with  its  one  thousand,  five  hundred  pounds 
of  hanging  meat;  and  from  dark  to  dawn  our  crowd  of 
shenzi  porters  sat  noisily  gorging  themselves,  like  a  bunch 
of  Indians  after  a  big  buffalo  kill,  and  cutting  into  strips 
and  smoke-curing  the  meat  they  could  not  stow  inside 


ZEBRA  STALLION,  LYING  AS  HE  FELL  TO  THE  AUTHOR'S  GUN 


SURROUNDED  BY  WILD  ELEPHANT    in 

them.  Nor  were  they  the  only  hungry  ones  about,  for 
repeatedly  a  tribe  of  laughing  hyena  tried  to  rush  the 
meat,  and  were  only  kept  off  by  the  firebrands  the  jealous 
porters  kept  throwing  at  them. 

One  more  try  we  had  for  roan  and  eland  from  that 
camp,  but  without  success,  travelling  ten  miles  southeast 
along  the  escarpment  to  the  skeleton  of  a  triangulation 
beacon,  built  there  on  a  high  promontory  five  years  before 
by  Outram  for  the  Boundary  Survey.  After  we  had 
abandoned  hope  of  getting  better  game  that  day,  I 
mortally  wounded  a  big  wart-hog,  but  he  showed  a  lot 
of  fight  and  got  three  more  shots. 

Groggy,  but  not  down,  Outram  called  to  the  porter 
leading  her  to  loose  Pugge.  Stupidly  released  with  the 
leading  chain  still  fast  to  her  collar,  the  plucky  little 
terrier  bounded  to  the  attack,  and  hot  and  heavy  she 
and  the  pig  had  it  for  ten  minutes. 

But  the  porter's  blunder  nearly  cost  us  Pugge's  life, 
for  midway  of  the  fight  the  pig  fell  and  lay  upon  the 
chain,  and  then,  shaking  her  loose  from  her  pet  hold  aft, 
swung  and  caught  her  by  the  throat,  slitting  it  to  ribbons 
but  luckily  not  puncturing  the  jugular.  It  all  happened 
so  quickly  that  before  Outram  got  in  a  finishing  shot 
Pugge  had  wrested  free  of  the  boar's  sharp  tusks  and  was 
herself  tackling  again  as  furiously  as  ever. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  we  parted,  Outram  swinging  to 
the  west  and  I  to  the  east.  Just  at  sundown  I  shot  a  good 
Chandler  reed  buck  in  one  of  the  favorite  haunts  of  its 
kind,  among  the  crags  along  the  edge  of  the  escarpment. 
Night  fell  before  the  buck  was  skinned,  and  although  the 
moon  was  well  on  in  its  first  quarter  I  should  never  have 


in  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

made  the  six  miles  to  camp,  winding  among  endless  iso- 
lated clumps  of  timber  and  belts  of  heavy  forest,  but  for 
the  brute  instinct  of  Habia,  my  little  Wanderobo-bred 
Masai,  who  always  brought  me  in  on  air  lines,  no  matter 
how  dark  the  night  was. 


VIII 
"CLOSE   THING,   THAT,   RIGHT-OH!" 

THE  next  morning,  January  30,  we  received  a 
message  from  our  Engabai  (Masai  name  for  Mara) 
camp  to  the  effect  that  a  mysterious  lone  muzungu 
was  there  awaiting  us,  whom  Outram  was  not  long  in 
placing  as  a  sort  of  cross  between  a  trader  and  a  raider, 
whose  camp  in  German  territory  had  been  seized  recently 
and  his  arms,  goods,  and  cattle  confiscated  or  destroyed 
by  German  Askaris,  one  of  the  fast-disappearing  class 
of  ivory  hunters  and  traders  who  a  few  years  ago  were  win- 
ning fortunes  at  their  dangerous  game. 

Indeed,  I  have  met  men  who  have  cleared  as  high  as 
$75,000  off  their  ivory  taken  on  a  six  months'  expedition, 
some  traded  from  the  natives  but  most  of  it  fallen  to 
their  own  guns.  Then  came  the  game  laws,  the  game 
rangers  to  enforce  them,  and  heavy  penalties  for  infringe- 
ment, making  contraband  all  ivory  but  the  insignificant 
lots  shot  under  a  sportsman's  license.  Not  a  few  re- 
belled against  these  laws,  the  hardy,  independent  lot, 
many  gentlemen  bred,  who  for  years  had  endured  every 
hardship  and  taken  their  lives  in  their  hands  every  morn- 
ing they  went  out  into  forest  or  long  grass  after  tuskers, 
every  hour  they  spent  in  the  fever-breeding  jungles, 
elephants'  haunt,  lured  by  the  love  of  adventure  and  the 
chance  of  gains  adequate  to  afford  them  every  last  luxury 
of  civilization  for  the  half-year  they  spent  out  of  the  bush. 

But  while  elephants  and  other  game  had  to  be  pro- 


n4  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

tected  to  save  them  from  extinction,  it  was  a  misfortune 
for  the  country  that  it  should  have  become  necessary  to 
legislate  this  class  out  of  the  field.  Expressed  official 
opinions  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  these  latter- 
day  ivory  hunters  and  traders,  come  in  on  the  heels  of  the 
departing  Arabs,  were  pacifiers  of  the  natives,  working 
usually  as  individuals,  all  alone,  or  at  best  in  pairs, 
without  armed  escorts,  with  none  but  native  attendants 
and  porters,  their  prosperity  and  indeed  their  very  exist- 
ence dependent  upon  just,  fair  dealing  with  all  natives 
with  whom  they  came  in  contact. 

What  with  diplomacy  and  sheer  bluff,  these  men  often 
settled  tribal  turbulence,  and  even  succeeded  in  making 
peace  between  tribes  that,  previously,  had  never  ceased 
warring  with  and  raiding  each  other.  Sometimes,  to  be 
sure,  they  won  peace  at  cost  of  blood,  but  peace  they 
always  strove  for  as  most  conducive  to  their  own  success. 

Indeed,  several  of  these  men  often  wielded  more  actual 
influence  and  power  over  thousands  of  natives  than  that 
inspired  by  all  the  authority  and  armed  force  of  the  estab- 
lished Government  —  as  when  John  Boies  went  among 
the  hostile  Kikuyu  alone  and  brought  in  food  supplies 
that  saved  from  impending  famine  hundreds  of  Swahilis 
and  East  Indians  employed  in  building  the  Uganda  Rail- 
way, followed  this  stroke  by  pacifying  and  amalgamating 
thirty-five  hostile  factions  of  the  Kikuyu,  and  so  firmly 
held  the  rein  on  them  that  five  thousand  Kikuyu  warriors 
were  equally  ready  to  make  war  or  till  their  shambas  at 
his  command,  ruled  them  with  such  undisputed  sway 
that  he  was  actually  made  king  of  the  Kikuyu;  or  as 
when  John  Alfred  Jordan  went  alone  into  the  Setik  and 
brought  into  Kericho  chiefs  that  had  refused  to  come  on 


JOHN  ALFRED  JORDAN 


"CLOSE  THING   THAT,  RIGHT-OH!"    115 

Government  summons,  and  whom  the  Government  felt 
they  had  no  force  adequate  to  fetch,  chiefs  who  had 
never  before  entered  a  British  post  or  camp. 

And  it  was  one  of  these  men,  no  other  than  John 
Alfred  Jordan  himself,  we  found  at  our  Engabai  camp 
when  we  trekked  down  there  January  31. 

Above  six  feet  in  height,  high-browed,  with  keen, 
brightly  intellectual  face  lighted  by  big,  brown,  dreamy 
eyes  that  glint  dangerous  lights  when  lit  by  a  spirit  of 
devilment  or  fury,  beardless  save  for  a  wisp  of  dark 
moustache  and  two  little  chin  tufts  that  served  to  accent- 
uate a  set  of  lean,  square  jaws,  with  the  long,  slender, 
delicate  hands  of  an  artist  belied  by  a  great  reach  of  arm 
and  Fitzsimmons  shoulders,  usually  slow  and  indolent  of 
motion  but  a  cat  in  activity  and  a  whirlwind  in  force 
when  roused,  —  Jordan  silent  about  the  camp  fire,  medita- 
tive, in  repose  bore  a  remarkable  resemblance  to  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson. 

A  native-born  Englishman,  of  experience  in  our  own 
Far  West,  a  trooper  in  the  Cape  Mounted  Police  through 
the  Transvaal  War,  when  I  met  him  Jordan  had  been 
irovy  hunting  and  trading  all  the  way  from  the  Boran 
and  Turkana  country  along  the  southern  border  of  Ab- 
yssinia away  south  far  into  German  territory,  and  never, 
I  will  stake  my  head,  a  wrong-doer  at  anything  save  in 
venturing  his  life  on  long,  lonely  exiles  far  from  all  other 
white  men  in  territory  which  the  Government  had  seen 
fit  to  leave  in  its  raw  state  of  black  occupation  and  to 
declare  "closed"  alike  to  traders,  travellers,  and  sports- 
men, except  under  special  license  —  like  mine  and  not 
easy  to  get, —  never  a  wrong-doer  except  as  he  may  have 
engaged  in  just  a  bit  of  ivory  poaching  or  in  gathering 


n6  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

wild  rubber  in  "closed"  districts,  for  which  he  has  fallen 
under  official  ban. 

The  chance  meeting  was  fortunate  alike  to  Jordan 
and  to  us.  To  us  he  meant  the  best  expert  advice  on 
where  to  find  elephant  and  how  best  to  attack  them;  to  him 
we  meant  a  source  of  much-needed  supplies,  for  which  he 
never  hinted  a  want  but  which  we  soon  saw  he  lacked 
and  were  glad  to  be  able  to  make  him  take. 

Himself  a  trespasser  within  the  "closed"  territory  I 
was  then  in  by  courtesy  of  Lieutenant- Governor  Jackson, 
we  found  Jordan  accompanied  by  three  warriors,  superb 
big  fellows,  and  a  boy,  all  Lumbwa;  with  no  better 
shelter  than  a  grass  hut  of  the  sort  natives  soon  throw 
together  for  a  night's  camp;  with  absolutely  no  food 
supply  but  native  posho  and  a  slender  flock  of  sheep  and 
goats  he  had  saved  from  the  German  raid  of  his  camp; 
unarmed  save  with  two  cartridges  and  an  old,  worn-out 
.303  rifle,  dangerous  to  none  but  him  who  fired  it;  with 
no  wardrobe  but  the  brown  cord  shooting  coat  and  frayed 
khaki  shorts  and  puttees  he  stood  in;  with  his  right  leg 
from  ankle  to  knee  raw  of  eczema  (then  and  for  months 
previously)  for  lack  of  proper  dressing  and  of  which  he 
suffered  unintermitting  tortures  without  a  murmur  (most 
luckily  I  had  with  me  some  oxynol  which  soon  gave  him 
relief  and  had  him  nearly  cured  of  eczema  when  we 
parted), —  nevertheless  this  man  was  richer  far  in  hap- 
piness and  in  perfect  content  with  his  environment  and 
lot,  desperate  hard  as  it  might  seem  to  others,  than  all 
the  princes  of  finance  put  together,  happiest,  doubtless, 
for  that  the  fine  fibre  of  his  mentality  obviously  held  not 
even  the  most  fragile  film  of  greed  or  envy. 

So  soon  as  he  learned  I  was  keen  for  elephant,  lion, 


-CLOSE  THING,  THAT,  RIGHT-OH!"    117 

and  a  bigger  rhino  than  the  N'gari  Kiti  kill,  he  volun- 
teered his  own  services  and  that  of  his  Lumbwa  and 
Wanderobo  subjects  in  locating  them  for  me.  Nor  did 
he  want  nor  would  he  accept  any  recompense;  instead, 
had  I  let  him,  within  the  first  week  he  would  have  stripped 
himself  of  his  one  available  asset,  his  pathetically  small 
flock  of  fat-tailed  sheep  and  goats  —  killing  them  for  our 
table  and  trading  them  to  natives  for  spears,  shields, 
swords,  and  rare  rhino  horn  knob-kerries,  curios  he 
knew  I  sought.  Chided  for  his  prodigality  and  improvi- 
dence, quick  came  the  chap's  philosophy. 

"Well,  you  see  anything  else  would  not  be  playing 
my  game.  As  you  find  me  here,  I  am  living  my  life,  the 
life  that  suits  me.  Here,  somewhere,  in  a  quiet  nook 
of  the  African  forest,  I  shall  probably  finish. 

"Money?  It  means  nothing  to  me.  I've  made 
money,  lots  of  it,  in  the  past,  and  had  no  more  good  of  it 
I  found  real  value  in  than  I  get  here. 

"I've  been  among  the  first  in  a  dozen  of  the  great 
African  mining  camps,  but  never  once  pegged  a  claim. 
Why?  Not  my  game.  I'm  only  a  hunter  and  native 
trader.  Enough!  A  bit  short  of  trade  goods  now,  as 
you  see;  not  a  scrap  of  'Americani'  or  a  single  'Buda' 
bead  left,  thanks  to  the  Germans,  but  I  '11  get  on,  right- 
oh!  no  fear. 

"Towns?  More  than  a  day  or  t\vo  of  any  of  them  is 
hateful  to  me;  'doddering  hermit,'  I  dare  say  some  fools 
might  call  me,  but  I  love  my  kind  well  as  any  other  — 
your  kind,  fellows  with  the  nerve  to  cut  loose  and  go  it 
alone  down  here  where  even  the  thriftiest  official  has 
never  yet  ventured  to  lead  his  Askaris  after  hut  tax. 

"  Come  along  with  me  and  I  '11  show  you  such  shooting 


n8  IN  CLOSED   TERRITORY 

as  you  never  dreamed  of  —  elephant,  rhino,  lion,  buffalo. 
Trek  with  me  four  or  five  days  northwest  into  the  Ron- 
gana  River  country,  and  I  '11  summon  my  Wanderobo  and 
Lumbwa  friends  to  mark  them  down  for  us.  I  '11  show 
them  to  you,  right  enough  —  then  it 's  up  to  you  to  get 
them." 

Travelling  for  weeks  along  and  through  forests  we 
knew  to  be  haunts  of  the  Wanderobo;  always  compelled 
to  be  watchful  for  their  dangerous  pitfall  game-traps; 
occasionally  stumbling  across  their  temporary  hut  villages, 
the  only  approach  to  a  town  these  shifty,  wandering 
hunters  ever  build,  but  never  seeing  one  of  them;  knowing 
that  travellers  who  have  needed  forest  guides  and  have 
succeeded  in  surprising,  capturing,  and  binding  any  of 
them,  saw  the  awesome  spectacle  of  creatures  in  man's 
image  fighting  as  furiously  for  liberty  as  madmen,  frothing 
mouths  gnawing  at  their  bonds  like  wild  beasts;  primitive 
creatures  whose  only  earthly  fixed  assets  are  their  bows 
and  iron-tipped  arrows,  their  rudely  fashioned  iron  short 
swords  and  narrow-bladed  hatchets,  and  their  two  fire 
sticks;  their  only  food  besides  wild  honey  the  wild  game 
whose  own  supreme  cunning  and  stealth  they  are  com- 
pelled to  surpass  to  enable  them  to  make  a  kill  with  their 
short-range  weapons;  roving  dwellers  in  chill  high  alti- 
tudes where  their  women  and  children  go  cold  and 
a-hunger  when  they  fail  to  fetch  in  skins  and  meat,  - 
I  expressed  surprise  and  gratification  that  he  could  com- 
mand the  services  of  these  matchless  trackers. 

"Wanderobo?"  he  replied.  " Command  them?  Ra- 
ther! Why,  man,  I've  lived  alone  and  hunted  with 
them  for  months  at  a  time  —  gone  hungry  with  them 
when  sudden  shifts  of  the  game  occurred  and  their  most 


"CLOSE  THING,  THAT,  RIGHT-OH!"    119 

dreaded  spectre,  famine,  brooded  over  every  hut;  set 
their  broken  bones,  dressed  their  wounds.  Come  to  me  ? 
Just  watch  them  —  in  a  run.  Only  it  may  bother  me  a 
lot  to  hold  them  when  they  find  two  strange  muzungu 
with  me,  for  the  Wanderobo  are  still  wild  and  suspicious 
as  a  buffalo. 

"Of  course,  what  with  the  pushing  out  of  white 
settlements,  shooting  safaris,  and  consequent  thinning 
out  of  the  game,  their  forest  life  is  growing  harder  and 
harder  every  year,  notwithstanding  in  one  season  only 
six  or  seven  years  ago  the  Wanderobo  of  the  upper 
Maggori  traded  the  ivory  of  no  less  than  four  hundred 
elephant  in  Karungu  and  in  German  territory  to  Greek 
traders. 

"Indeed,  that  little  band,  Labusoni's  lot,  are,  so  far 
as  I  know,  the  only  group  of  the  real  Wanderobo  elephant 
hunters  still  left.  Many  have  already  amalgamated  with 
the  Masai  and  are  living  in  munyatas,  among  them  even 
a  son  of  Labusoni,  the  old  medicine  chief. 

"About  eight  years  ago  the  most  profitable  industry 
of  Mataia,  chief  of  the  warlike  Lumbwa,  was  capturing 
Wanderobo  and  holding  them  for  ransom  in  ivory  and 
raiding  the  Southern  Masai  for  cattle  and  women,  until 
finally  he  had  burned  all  the  munyatas  along  and  to  the 
west  of  the  Engabai  and  the  Masai  were  all  speared  or 
scattered. 

"Old  Koydelot,  chief  witchdoctor  of  the  Masai,  was 
one  of  the  few  who  escaped  to  asylum  among  the  Wande- 
robo. There  his  ' medicine'  was  soon  found  to  be  so 
strong  he  was  able  to  win  over  a  lot  of  Wanderobo,  whom 
later  he  amalgamated  with  a  few  Masai  fugitives  and 
built  the  little  group  of  munyatas  between  the  Engabai 


i2o  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

and  the  escarpment,  their  flocks  and  herds  chiefly  the 
fruit  of  raids  of  German  natives. 

"Only  the  old  hard-shells,  dyed-in-the- wools  like 
Labusoni,  have  clung  to  the  old  forest  life. 

"Labusoni?  Eighty  now,  if  he  is  a  day,  but  every 
sunrise  sees  him  off  into  the  bush  with  bow  and  arrows, 
like  the  meanest  of  his  followers,  ears  keen  for  the  twitter 
of  a  honey-bird  or  the  whirr  of  a  bee  swarm,  shrewd  old 
eyes  scanning  bush  and  grass  for  buck.  Twice  when 
nearly  starved  he  has  gone  with  his  family  to  his  son,  at 
Koydelot's,  but  the  monotony  of  munyata  shepherd  life 
was  too  slow  for  him,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  fattened  up 
a  bit,  back  into  the  bush  he  trekked. 

"My  word,  but  one  of  Labusoni's  old-fashioned 
elephant  round-ups  was  a  sight ! 

"Of  nights  before  such  hunts  he  assembled  all  his 
men  about  a  small  fire  apart  from  the  huts,  after  all  the 
women  and  children  had  gone  to  sleep. 

"Then  Labusoni  began  to  chant  the  elephant  song, 
the  Wanderobo  war  song,  recounting  the  glories  of  the 
chase  —  the  craft  and  bravery  of  the  boldest,  the  big 
kills  they  had  made,  the  need  of  their  women  and  children, 
the  riches  in  beads  and  trinkets  the  ivory  spoils  would 
bring,  the  stout  bow  strings  their  great  back  sinews 
would  furnish,  the  matchless  shields  and  enduring  sandals 
their  thick  hides,  the  capacious  pouches  their  great 
bladders,  the  vast  stores  of  fat  with  which  Wanderobo 
love  to  smear  the  outer  as  well  as  the  inner  man. 

"On  and  on  Labusoni  would  sing,  voice  rising  shriller 
and  shriller,  until  his  wild  henchmen  were  wrought  up  to 
a  madness  of  which  all  eyes  at  the  same  time  gleamed 


"CLOSE  THING,  THAT,  RIGHT-OH!"    121 

savage  fury  and  streamed  tears,  limbs  trembled  like 
wind-shaken  reeds,  nervous  ringers  snatched  sword  blades 
from  their  sheaths,  and  the  grim  shadows  brooding  ubout 
the  camp  fire  were  set  all  brightly  alight  with  the  shimmer 
of  brandishing  blades. 

"Then,  dropping  his  voice  to  quiet  tones,  Labusoni 
personally  addressed  each  in  turn : 

"  'Coboli!  your  father  was  no  coward;  in  my  youth 
he  loved  to  dodge  under  the  bellies  of  the  Big  Ones  and 
stab  them  from  beneath.  If  you  are  afraid,  stay  in  your 
hut  with  your  women ! 

"  'Njunge!  your  father  got  none  but  sons;  if  you  are 
turned  woman,  go  stalking  little  buck! 

"  'Minyatuke!  if  the  thought  of  the  thunder  of  the 
Big  Ones  rushing  when  they  get  your  wind  makes  you 
tremble,  go  follow  the  honey-birds! 

"  'Sibibi!  if  the  shrill  screams  of  rage  of  the  arrow- 
hit  weaken  your  finger  tug  at  the  bow  string,  stay  fleshing 
and  dressing  skins  with  the  women ! 

"  'Weana!  if  the  crash  of  falling  forest  to  the  charge 
of  a  maddened  herd  quickens  your  heart  beat,  give  your 
women  and  children  to  a  real  man  and  go  stab  yourself 
for  a  cur ! 

"  'Surbube!  for  you  it  should  be  enough  to  remember 
you  are  son  of  Labusoni,  who  has  missed  no  chance  of  a 
kill  of  the  Big  Ones  since  his  youth,  and  who  will  be 
following  them  until  his  old  carcass  is  tossed  to  the 
fisi  (hyena),  the  common  end  of  all  our  people ! ' 

"The  effects  of  song  and  personal  appeal  were  so  deeply 
stirring  of  every  savage  instinct,  that  usually  by  the  time 
Labusoni  was  finished  several  of  his  men  were  so  stark 


122  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

frenzied  mad,  they  were  actually  amuck,  frothing  at  the 
mouth,  slashing  right  and  left  with  their  weapons,  and 
often  many  had  to  be  seized  and  bound. 

"Morning  come,  cooled  from  the  night's  excitement, 
steady  nerved  of  the  past  week's  complete  abstinence 
from  honey  beer  and  women  always  practised  as  prepara- 
tion for  an  elephant  hunt,  the  band  stole  out  of  the  forest 
in  single  file,  silent  as  ghosts,  led  by  Labusoni,  to  a  camp 
three  or  four  miles  from  the  position  of  a  located  herd. 
At  dawn  of  the  following  day,  two  scouts  made  a  thorough 
reconnoissance  and  reported.  If  all  conditions  were 
favorable,  Labusoni  handed  to  each  bits  of  'medicine,' 
herbs  and  roots  potential  to  stouten  their  hearts,  built  a 
rude  arch  of  green  boughs  and  then  led  his  men  beneath 
it  to  the  chase,  every  ear  strained  for  the  first  note  of 
Ol  Toilo,  the  luck  bird :  if  heard  behind  them,  a  guaranty 
of  safety  for  all;  if  to  the  right,  or  ahead,  or  unheard,  a 
sign  of  a  good  kill,  but  with  casualties ;  if  on  the  left,  such 
a  certainty  of  a  poor  kill  and  heavy  losses  of  men  that  the 
chase  was  for  the  day  abandoned. 

"Unless  Ol  Toilo  forbade,  on  the  column  moved  to 
near  approach  of  the  herd,  when  it  was  halted  and 
Labusoni  disposed  his  forces  for  the  attack  —  the  old 
men  holding  the  position  they  then  occupied,  the  Hone 
(uncircumcised  youths)  being  sent  to  the  right  of  the 
herd,  the  elmorani  (young  warriors)  to  the  left  and  the 
farther  side. 

"In  long  grass  the  Wanderobo  never  attack  elephant 
—  escape  from  attack  by  the  wounded  is  too  nearly 
impossible.  When  found  so  placed,  the  herd  was  fright- 
ened into  a  dash  for  the  nearest  forest  by  the  yells  and 
skin-coat  shaking  of  the  outer  flankers,  while  within  the 


-CLOSE  THING,  THAT,  RIGHT-OH!"    123 

wood  their  mates  awaited  the  onrush,  seventy-two-inch 
bows  bent,  thirty-six-inch  arrows  drawn  to  their  poisoned 
tips. 

"So,  with  keen-biting,  empoisoned  arrow  flights  and 
frantic  yells  and  skin  shaking,  for  a  time  the  herd  was 
turned  hither  and  yon,  from  one  line  of  flankers  to  another, 
sometimes  was  so  held  for  as  much  as  an  hour  within  an 
area  no  more  than  a  half-mile  square,  with  individual 
duels  here  and  there  between  the  wounded  and  one  or 
another  of  their  enemies  whom  they  had  sighted  and  whom 
they  pursued  with  such  fury  and  cunning  of  attack  that 
naught  but  a  Wanderobo's  wind  and  dexterity  at  dodging 
and  tree  climbing  left  the  pigmy  assailant  any  chance  at 
all  of  escape. 

"Ultimately,  of  course,  the  herd  broke  through  the 
attacking  lines,  and  then  the  search  for  the  dead  began, 
and  runners  were  sent  to  fetch  up  the  women  and  children; 
and  thereabout,  upon  and  literally  inside  their  kills,  the 
tribe  camped  until  every  last  fragment  of  meat  was 
eaten,  every  bone  cracked,  and  its  sweet,  fat  contents 
sucked. 

"As  high  as  thirty  elephant  have  fallen  in  such  a  hunt 
within  an  hour  to  one  attacking  party  numbering  no  more 
than  forty  men." 

February  i  was  for  me  a  day  of  remarkably  mixed 
luck  in  the  matter  of  shooting,  for,  after  beginning  with 
six  clean  misses  of  a  splendid  water  buck  I  much  wanted, 
at  ranges  from  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  to  one  hun- 
dred and  seventy-five  yards,  I  finished  by  killing  a  gray 
Wildebeeste  bull  at  six  hundred  yards  and  three  kongoni 
at  three  hundred  to  four  hundred  yards,  each  dropping  to 
a  single  shot.  Two  of  the  kongoni  were  left  as  lion  bait, 


i24  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

but  with  small  hopes,  for  there  game  was  too  plenty  to 
leave  it  likely  they  would  touch  a  cold  kill. 

All  that  night  lion  were  heard  about  camp,  two  in  the 
direction  the  kills  lay ;  but  when  I  went  out  to  them  at  dawn 
I  found  one  kongoni  eaten  by  leopard,  and  a  mixed  break- 
fast party  of  hyena,  jackals,  vultures,  and  marabout 
storks  on  and  about  the  other,  with  lion  tracks  fresh  in 
the  blood  but  no  sign  he  had  touched  the  carcass. 

Wanting  a  better  Wildebeeste  than  that  killed  the  day 
before,  after  breakfast  Jordan  and  I  rode  away  across 
the  level  plain  to  a  low  range  of  hills  south  of  us,  and 
there  in  those  hills  we  saw  such  a  sight  as  I  never  shall 
see  again. 

Come  to  the  slightly  rolling  hillcrest  and  into  a  bit  of 
open  meadow  perhaps  two  hundred  yards  square,  to  the 
east  of  us  extended  far  as  one  could  see  an  area  of  open 
scrub  one  could  see  into  perhaps  one  hundred  and  fifty 
yards,  apparently  empty  of  game  save  for  two  Wildebeeste 
bulls  that  stood  near  its  edge,  one  a  fine  one  that  later, 
when  I  got  to  him,  proved  to  have  a  pair  of  twenty-four- 
inch  horns,  with  a  seventeen-inch  spread. 

At  the  first  echo  of  my  shot,  hell  broke  loose  behind 
him,  and  out  of  the  seemingly  empty  scrub  poured  a  wild 
stampede  of  game  in  thousands  —  Wildebeeste,  topi,  kon- 
goni, zebra,  Granti,  Thompsoni,  impala,  wart-hogs, 
giraffe,  water  buck,  oribi  —  all  racing  in  mad  terror  at 
top  speed  and  in  an  unbroken  column  twenty  to  one 
hundred  beasts  in  width  and  solid  as  a  charging  squadron, 
a  column  that  was  ten  to  fifteen  minutes  passing  us,  first 
and  last,  that  left  our  ears  deafened  with  its  thunder  and 
that  we  estimated  at  anywhere  from  ten  thousand  to 
fifteen  thousand  head. 


"CLOSE  THING,  THAT,  RIGHT-OH!"    125 

Plunging  northwest  across  our  little  clearing,  their 
sleek  skins  flashing  back  to  the  early  morning  sun  every 
bright  hue  Nature  had  clad  them  in,  muscles  heaving  and 
rippling  beneath  their  shining  hides,  it  was  the  sight  of  a 
lifetime,  and  looked  as  if  an  all-comers'  Marathon  was  on 
and  the  entire  animal  kingdom  started  in  it. 

But,  suddenly,  while  we  stood  in  dumb  wonder  at  the 
stupendous  spectacle,  marvelling  whether  the  racing  pro- 
cession would  ever  end,  some  scare  or  freak  of  the  leaders 
turned  them  back  south  out  of  the  bush  into  which  they 
had  disappeared,  back  into  our  clearing  and  straight 
down  upon  Jordan  and  me  as  if  they  were  fiends  hunting 
us  to  the  death  instead  of  mere  fear-maddened  beasts, 
probably  unconscious  of  our  presence. 

With  neither  time  nor  room  to  shift  out  of  their  path, 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  stand  and  shoot  into  the  lead- 
ers. And  while  only  a  matter  of  seconds,  it  seemed  a 
lifetime  before  we  had  knocked  over  three  Wildebeeste 
and  five  zebras  and  had  turned  the  thundering  tide  slightly 
west  of  us. 

Then  we  caught  our  breath  and  stood  another  seven 
or  eight  minutes  in  silent  awe  —  of  their  numbers,  their 
beauty,  their  grace  and  speed,  their  terror-fixed  eyes,  their 
heaving  flanks  and  shrilling  nostrils,  as  they  pounded 
past  us,  their  nearer  line  never  more  than  ten  to  twenty 
yards  from  us,  golden  impala  leaping  high  into  the  air, 
only  to  disappear  back  into  the  angry  animal  wave  be- 
neath them  like  porpoise  dropping  back  into  a  storm- 
tossed  sea,  zebra  galloping  low  and  swift,  kongoni  bound- 
ing now  and  then  as  if  something  had  bitten  them,  grayish 
black  masses  of  Wildebeeste  shouldering  everything  out 
of  the  way,  giraffe  awkwardly  side-wheeling  along  in  giant 


126  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

strides  and  towering  above  the  heaving  mass  like  ambu- 
lant watch  towers,  pigs  humping  along  as  best  they  could 
and  ripping  viciously  with  shining  tusks  when  too  close 
crowded. 

It  was  not  until  the  tail  of  the  tide  had  swept  quite 
out  of  sight  into  the  south  that  either  spoke,  and  then  the 
imperturbable  Jordan  remarked: 

"Jolly  close  thing,  that,  right-oh!  Looked  like  you 
and  me  for  pulp !  Wonder  if  there 's  another  flood  on  and 
these  beggars  have  heard  Noah  the  Second's  'all  aboard' 
whistle?" 

Then  he  strolled  away  to  finish  two  of  the  wounded 
and  I  over  to  the  stiffening  Wildebeeste  bull,  whose  life 
had  bought  us  this  incomparable  spectacle,  heart-broken 
that  I  could  not  have  had  Radclyffe  Dugmere  beside  me 
with  his  camera. 


IX 

A   HIDEOUS   OLD   HAUNTER 

TO  avoid  the  terrific  heat,  after  the  rains  stopped  in 
the  lower  valleys,  which  began  blazing  down  upon 
the  Engabai  plains  shortly  after  dawn,  we  broke 
camp  at  3  A.  M.,  February  3,  reaching  the  summit  of  Isuria 
at  8  A.  M.,  and  finding  our  donkeys  safely  arrived  there 
with  the  posho  we  had  bought  in  Kavirondo.  Then  we 
marched  on  to  permanent  camp  at  one  of  Jordan's  old 
bomas,  where  he  had  spent  a  year  along  with  his  Wande- 
robo  and  Lumbwa,  his  cows,  sheep,  and  fowls,  trading  a 
bit,  shooting  a  bit,  idling  and  musing  a  lot,  chief  of  the 
native  chiefs,  happy  as  a  king  until  down  upon  him  de- 
scended a  collector  and  party  of  Askaris  on  a  raiding  search 
for  ivory  they  fancied  he  had  but  never  found,  when  in 
disgust  he  slipped  away  to  another  forest  nook,  and 
lodged  himself  anew. 

Dawn  found  us  out  after  eland  or  roan,  but  by  noon  we 
were  back  empty-handed  —  apparently  the  game  had 
shifted,  for  there  was  little  sign  about  to  the  west  of  us. 

In  camp  we  found  Mataia,  chief  of  the  Manga 
Lumbwa,  the  stoutest  vassal  chief  of  Jordan's  overlord- 
ship,  with  Arab  Tumo,  his  foremost  warrior,  and  two 
young  elmorani,  all  come  at  Jordan's  summons  from  their 
country,  a  full  day's  journey  north. 

Jordan,  Mataia  seemed  to  worship  —  no  other  could 
bear  his  gun  or  do  him  service, —  while  with  his  own  kind 
I  soon  learned  no  ruler  was  ever  more  despotic  or  cruel. 

127 


128  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

Obedience  to  Mataia's  command  was  instant  or  some 
ghastly  punishment  was  administered. 

In  Mataia's  domestic  relations,  discipline  was  carried 
to  a  highly  effective  if  not  a  refined  art. 

If  one  of  his  wives  brought  him  a  great  sufuria  (cook- 
ing pot)  heaped  with  food  that  did  not  suit  him,  he  made 
her  sit  down  and  gorge  the  lot,  followed  by  water  in 
quarts  until  she  was  sufficiently  near  bursting  to  give  him 
some  confidence  she  might  remember  the  next  day  how 
he  liked  his  victuals  cooked.  If  another  stitched  his  new 
monkey-skin  cloak  badly,  the  least  hint  of  her  careless- 
ness she  could  expect  would  be  a  warm  application  on 
the  naked  stomach  in  the  form  of  Mataia's  heated  sword 
blade;  while  if  one  were  suspected  of  too  deep  interest 
in  any  predatory  swain  of  the  tribe,  a  slash  from  Mataia's 
razor-edged  sword  blade,  landed  wherever  his  large 
experience  and  fertile  fancy  taught  him  it  was  likely  to 
hurt  most,  usually  served  to  protect  the  imperilled  family 
honor,  at  least  temporarily. 

At  2  P.M.  we  went  out  again  after  game,  led  by  Mataia, 
Arab  Tumo,  Arab  Barta,  and  Mosoni  as  scouts  and 
trackers.  At  5  p.  M.,  having  seen  nothing  but  topi  and 
oribi,  we  were  headed  back  toward  camp,  when  Mosoni 
sighted  a  lone  roan  antelope. 

Instantly  all  of  us  dropped  out  of  sight  in  the  grass, 
and  Mosoni  and  I  began  circling  for  the  wind.  What 
with  the  grass  and  thickly  scattered  mats  of  bush,  stalking 
was  easy,  so  that  we  were  soon  well  up  within  seventy-five 
yards  of  the  roan.  With  its  head  down  and  back  to  us, 
I  could  not  tell  whether  it  was  cow  or  bull,  and  therefore 
I  crouched  awaiting  a  better  view,  well  under  cover  from 
it.  But  just  then  out  of  the  tail  of  my  eye  I  caught  sight 


ENTERING  RONGANA  BUSH  ON  RHINO  SPOOR 


A  HIDEOUS  OLD  HAUNTER        129 

of  two  splendid  roan  bulls  off  on  our  right  to  which,  not 
having  previously  seen,  we  were  uncovered  and  which 
were  trotting  up  to  their  mate,  who  at  the  instant  caught 
the  alarm  and  with  them  bounded  behind  bush,  all  out 
of  sight  before  I  even  got  my  gun  to  my  shoulder. 

Then,  while  I  was  engaged  in  invoking  backhanded 
blessings  on  this  my  second  failure  at  a  good  chance  of  a 
roan  trophy,  out  from  behind  a  bush  bounded  a  great 
roan  beauty  bigger  than  a  water  buck,  and  stopped 
broadside  for  a  second's  glimpse  of  us  on  a  little  anthill 
one  hundred  and  seventy-five  yards  away,  nose  up  and 
head  turned  to  us,  graceful  horns  sweeping  back  almost 
to  its  long  sorrel  mane,  its  red  roan  body  glistening  in 
the  evening  sun  like  burnished  copper.  Scarcely  was  he 
stopped,  before  I  had  a  bead  on  his  shoulder  this  time, 
and  at  the  shot  he  went  off  at  the  buck- jump  that  usually 
spells  a  safe  hit.  A  dozen  bounds  and  he  was  out  of 
sight,  but,  taking  his  trail,  we  found  him  down  and  stone 
dead  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  where  he  was  hit. 
While  the  horns  were  disappointing,  only  twenty  inches 
on  the  outer  curve  and  six  inches  from  tip  to  tip,  it  was  a 
beautiful  head,  and  I  had  my  roan. 

Our  camp  near  the  old  Jordan  boma  was  one  of  the 
loveliest  on  the  entire  trip.  Wanderobo-colored  a  bit  in 
thought  and  habit,  Jordan  camped  us  in  dense  forest, 
near  a  cold  mountain  brook,  forest  so  thick  one  might 
have  passed  within  a  few  yards  without  seeing  us,  so 
thick  of  foliage  that  it  shut  out  the  heavy  night  dews  and 
the  burning  midday  sun,  where  it  was  warm  of  nights 
and  delightfully  cool  by  day,  the  bush  about  us  alive  with 
monkeys  and  forest  guinea  fowl,  darker  blue  of  plumage 
and  better  eating  by  far  than  the  sort  found  on  the  plains 


130  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

After  the  experience  of  that  camp,  I  never  again  pitched 
our  tents  outside  a  forest  when  one  was  at  hand  to  shelter  us. 

Nights  about  the  camp  fires  with  Jordan  were  never 
dull.  Some  incident  of  the  day  or  turn  of  the  talk  always 
served  to  start  him  on  some  stirring  tale  of  weird  bush 
happenings.  That  night  he  was  particularly  interesting, 
notwithstanding  a  heavy  electrical  storm  was  on  and  we 
were  tightly  shut  in  my  tent,  with  no  light  but  the  dull 
flicker  of  our  pipes. 

"Wonder  how  long  it  will  be  before  the  last  of  all  the 
strange  animal  and  reptilian  types  native  to  Africa  have 
been  taken  and  classified?"  he  mused. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked.  "Are  there  many 
types  left  which  have  been  seen  but  remain  untaken?" 

"God  only  knows  how  many,"  he  replied.  "Why, 
it  is  only  four  years  ago  I  killed  my  bongo  and  got  the 
first  perfect  bongo  skin  ever  taken.  Before  that  Deputy 
Commissioner  Isaac  had  gotten  a  piece  of  a  bongo  hide 
from  the  Wanderobo  and  had  sent  it  to  the  British  Mu- 
seum, but  mine  was  the  first  whole  skin  ever  seen  by  a 
white  man,  and  not  so  very  many  have  been  shot  since. 

"  My  word,  but  they  are  beauties!  —  bright  red  as  an 
impala,  white  of  jaw,  with  nine  white  stripes  over  sides, 
back,  and  quarters,  short  of  leg  but  heavier  of  body  than 
a  roan,  with  horns  curved  and  shaped  like  a  bush  buck's 
but  tipped  white  as  ivory.  Mine  was  a  corker,  nine  feet, 
six  inches  from  nose  to  tail  tip,  with  twenty-nine  and  one- 
half-inch  horns.  And  it 's  hard  to  get,  the  beggars  are ; 
never  see  them  outside  the  heaviest  forest  or  afoot  except 
at  nights  or  at  dawn  or  in  the  dusk.  Indeed,  I  only  got 
mine  after  putting  out  a  lot  of  Wanderobo  for  days  and 
days  to  beat  up  the  forest. 


A  HIDEOUS  OLD  HAUNTER        131 

"What  did  I  do  with  him?  Nothing,  just  nothing. 
Helpful  Government  did  it  all  for  me.  A  new  species 
unincluded  in  the  game  license,  when  I  got  to  the  Eldama 
Ravine  Boma,  Collector  Foaker  seized  skin  and  head, 
under  instructions  from  Provincial  Commissioner  Hobley, 
and  they  were  sold  at  public  auction  at  Mombasa  for  £50, 
a  little  later  reselling  at  £250. 

"Odd  ones!  Why,  there  's  the  okapi,  sort  of  a  cross 
between  a  giraffe  and  a  —  I  don't  know  what  —  perhaps  a 
'what  is  it.'  Hyde  Baker  killed  two  in  the  Congo  coun- 
try less  than  three  years  ago,  and  one  or  two  Germans 
have  taken  them;  that 's  all. 

"Then  there's  that  infernal  horror  of  a  reptilian 
*  bounder  '  that  comes  up  the  Maggori  River  out  of  the 
lake  the  Lumbwa  have  christened  Dingonek.  And  it's 
real  prize  money  that  beauty  would  fetch,  five  or  ten 
thousand  quid  at  least,  and  you  bet  I've  got  my  Wan- 
derobo  and  Lumbwa  always  on  the  lookout  for  one  when 
the  Maggori  is  in  flood. 

"Ever  see  one?  Did  I?  Rather!  Mataia,  the  boy 
there,  and  Mosoni  were  with  me.  It  was  only  about  a 
year  ago.  Mataia  vows  he  has  seen  two  since ;  can't  tell 
whether  he  really  saw  them  or  dreamed  he  did  —  like  as 
not  the  latter,  for  I  know  Dingonek  were  trying  to  crawl 
into  my  blankets  for  weeks  after  we  saw  that  *  bounder.' 

"  How  was  it  ?  Well,  we  were  on  the  march  approach- 
ing the  Maggori,  and  I  had  stayed  back  with  the  porters 
and  sheep  and  had  sent  the  Lumbwa  ahead  to  look  for  a 
drift  we  could  cross  —  river  was  up  and  booming  and 
chances  poor.  Presently  I  heard  the  bush  smashing  and 
up  raced  my  Lumbwa,  wide-eyed  and  gray  as  their  black 
skins  could  get,  with  the  yarn  that  they  had  seen  a  fright- 


IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

ful  strange  beast  on  the  river  bank,  which  at  sight  of  them 
had  plunged  into  the  water  —  as  they  described  it,  some 
sort  of  cross  between  a  sea  serpent,  a  leopard,  and  a 
whale.  Thinking  they  had  gone  crazy  or  were  pulling  my 
leg,  I  told  them  I  'd  believe  them  if  they  could  show  me, 
but  not  before.  After  a  long  shauri  [palaver]  among 
themselves,  back  they  finally  ventured,  returning  in  half 
an  hour  to  say  that  IT  lay  full  length  exposed  on  the 
water  in  midstream. 

"Down  to  the  Maggori  I  hurried,  and  there  their 
'bounder'  lay,  right-oh! 

"Holy  saints,  but  he  was  a  sight  —  fourteen  or  fifteen 
feet  long,  head  big  as  that  of  a  lioness  but  shaped  and 
marked  like  a  leopard,  two  long  white  fangs  sticking  down 
straight  out  of  his  upper  jaw,  back  broad  as  a  hippo, 
scaled  like  an  armadillo,  but  colored  and  marked  like  a 
leopard,  and  a  broad  fin  tail,  with  slow,  lazy  swishes  of 
which  he  was  easily  holding  himself  level  in  the  swift 
current,  headed  up  stream. 

"  Gad !  but  he  was  a  hideous  old  haunter  of  a  night- 
mare, was  that  beast-fish,  that  made  you  want  an 
aeroplane  to  feel  safe  of  him;  for  while  he  lay  up  stream 
of  me,  I  had  been  brought  down  to  the  river  bank  precisely 
where  he  had  taken  water,  and  there  all  about  me  in  the 
soft  mud  and  loam  were  the  imprints  of  feet  wide  of  diam- 
eter as  a  hippo's  but  clawed  like  a  reptile's,  feet  you  knew 
could  carry  him  ashore  and  claws  you  could  be  bally 
well  sure  no  man  could  ever  get  loose  from  once  they  had 
nipped  him. 

"Blast  that  blighter's  fangs,  but  they  looked  long 
enough  to  go  clean  through  a  man. 

"He  had  not  seen  or  heard  me,  and  how  long  I  stood 


A  HIDEOUS  OLD  HAUNTER       133 

and  watched  him  I  don't  know.  Anyway,  when  I  began 
to  fear  he  would  shift  or  turn  and  see  me,  I  gave  him  a 
.303  hard-nose  behind  his  leopard  ear  —  and  then  hell 
split  for  fair! 

"Straight  up  out  of  the  water  he  sprang,  straight  as 
if  standing  on  his  blooming  tail  —  must  have  jumped 
off  it,  I  fancy. 

"Me?  Well,  I  never  quit  sprinting  until  I  was  atop 
of  the  bank  and  deep  in  the  bush  —  fancier  burst  of 
speed  than  any  wounded  bull  elephant  ever  got  out  of  me, 
my  word  for  that ! 

"That  was  one  time  when  my  presence  of  mind  did  n't 
succeed  in  getting  away  with  me  from  the  starting  post, 
and  when,  finally,  it  overtook  me,  and  I  bunched  nerve 
enough  to  stop  and  listen,  the  bush  ahead  of  me  was  still 
smashing  with  flying  Lumbwa,  but  all  was  silent  astern. 

"His  legs?  What  were  they  like?  Blest  if  I  know! 
The  same  second  that  he  stood  up  on  his  tail,  I  got  too 
busy  with  my  own  legs  to  study  his. 

"Gory  wonder,  was  that  fellow;  a  .303,  where  placed, 
should  have  killed  anything,  for  he  was  less  than  ten  yards 
from  me  when  I  shot,  but  though  we  watched  waters  and 
shores  over  a  range  of  several  miles  for  two  days,  no  sight 
did  we  get  of  him  or  his  tracks. 

"Ask  Mataia,  Mosoni,  or  the  lad  there  what  they  saw. " 

I  did  so,  through  my  own  interpreter,  Salem,  and  got 
from  each  a  voluble  description  of  beast  and  incident 
differing  in  no  essential  details  from  Jordan's  description. 

Moreover,  were  it  necessary,  which  I  do  not  myself 
regard  it,  the  strongest  corroboration  is  obtainable  of  the 
existence  in  Victoria  Nyanza  of  a  reptile  or  serpent  of 
huge  size,  untaken  and  unclassed. 


134  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

While  in  Uganda  with  ex-Collector  James  Martin  in 
November  last,  he  told  me  it  was  a  well-known  fact  that  at 
intervals  in  the  past,  usually  long  intervals,  a  great  water 
serpent  or  reptile  was  seen  on  or  near  the  north  shore  of  the 
lake,  which  was  worshipped  by  the  natives,  who  believed 
its  coming  a  harbinger  of  heavy  crops  and  large  increase 
of  their  flocks  and  herds. 

Again,  in  December,  while  dining  with  the  Senior 
Deputy  Commissioner,  C.  W.  Hobley,  C.  M.  G.,  at  his 
residence  in  Nairobi,  the  very  night  before  starting  on 
this  safari,  in  speaking  of  the  origin  of  the  sleeping  sickness 
Mr.  Hobley  told  me  that  the  Baganda,  Wasoga,  and  Kav- 
irondo  of  the  north  shore  of  the  lake  had  from  time  im- 
memorial sacrificed  burnt  offerings  of  cattle  and  sheep 
to  a  lake  reptile  of  great  size  and  terrible  appearance  they 
called  Luquata,  which  occasionally  appeared  along  or 
near  the  shore;  that  since  the  last  coming  of  Luquata 
was  just  shortly  before  the  first  outbreak  of  the  sleeping 
sickness,  the  natives  firmly  believe  that  the  muzungu 
have  killed  Luquata  with  the  purpose  and  as  the  means 
of  making  them  victims  of  the  dread  plague.  Of  the 
existence  in  the  lake  of  such  an  unclassed  reptile,  Mr. 
Hobley  considered  there  was  no  question. 

The  next  morning  found  Jordan  and  three  of  my 
porters  down  with  bad  attacks  of  fever.  Butterenjonie, 
chief  of  the  pure  Masai  on  the  Amala  River,  had  arrived 
early  on  a  summons  from  Jordan,  and  he  and  Mataia 
were  sent  to  the  northeast  into  the  forest  to  try  to  locate 
the  Wanderobo,  while  Outram  and  I  went  out  on  a  search 
for  eland,  and  three  parties  were  started  off  twenty-five 
miles  south  to  buy  fowls  and  eggs  from  Korkosch,  chief  of 
the  Mongorrori  —  a  longish  jaunt  to  market,  to  be  sure, 


A  HIDEOUS  OLD   HAUNTER        135 

but  still  the  nearest  the  country  afforded  where  such 
luxuries  were  obtainable.  But  the  day  proved  a  bad 
one  all  round.  Outram  and  I  came  in  with  clean  guns 
and  Butterenjonie  and  Mataia  returned  without  any 
Wanderobo. 

By  the  sixth  all  the  invalids  were  able  to  travel  again, 
and  we  made  a  short  four-hour  march  northwest,  camping 
on  the  edge  of  a  great  forest  from  which  the  Wanderobo 
were  seldom  long  absent,  and  again  sent  out  searchers 
for  them.  Here  we  were  well  within  the  great  basin  rep- 
resenting the  watershed  of  the  upper  Maggori. 

On  the  seventh  we  crossed  the  Maggori,  climbed  a  high 
divide,  and  stopped  on  the  Rongana,  a  tributary  of  the 
Maggori,  at  a  point  Jordan  had  chosen  for  our  permanent 
elephant  camp. 

Toward  noon  Mataia  returned  bringing  four  Wan- 
derobo, stalwart,  wild-eyed  fellows,  sturdier  than  the 
Masai  but  less  massive  than  the  Lumbwa,  all  armed  with 
heavy  six-foot  bows,  knob-kernes,  and  swords  shorter  of 
blade  and  broader  of  point  than  the  Masai,  all  carrying 
large  leather  pouches  filled  with  honey,  then  their  princi- 
pal food,  and  clad  in  skin  cloaks  of  Masai  mode.  About 
our  fire  they  stood  for  two  or  three  hours,  shifty-eyed, 
alert  for  wonders  and  against  surprise,  answering  only 
in  monosyllables. 

There  was  no  unbending  or  evidence  of  moderating 
mistrust,  notwithstanding  Jordan's  assurance  my  pres- 
ence meant  no  harm,  until  I  had  given  an  empty  cigarette 
tin  to  one,  an  empty  whiskey  bottle  to  another,  a  sardine 
tin  to  the  third,  a  pickle  jar  to  the  fourth,  and  to  each  a 
fistful  of  native  tobacco  and  several  pinches  of  black 
pepper  —  to  them  munificence  unparalleled  that  first 


i36  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

cracked  and  then,  finally,  broke  the  thick  ice  of  their 
reserve. 

Indeed,  we  were  getting  on  fairly  until  I  stupidly  let 
them  listen  to  the  ticking  of  my  watch.  This  nearly 
smashed  our  improving  entente,  for  we  failed  entirely 
to  convince  them  the  watch  did  not  hold  a  muungu  (god) 
no  Wanderobo  had  business  with,  nor  were  they  again  put 
at  ease  until  they  saw  it  safely  shut  out  of  sight  in  my  steel 
clothes  box  and  a  saddle  stacked  atop  of  the  box. 

I  was  particularly  keen  to  have  one  of  their  camps 
moved  over  near  ours,  in  order  to  get  photographs  of 
Wanderobo  on  an  elephant  kill,  if  we  were  lucky  enough 
to  make  one  —  Labusoni's  group  if  possible,  but  he,  they 
told  us,  was  then  a  long  day's  journey  away.  So  during  the 
evening  Jordan  held  a  big  shauri  with  the  four. 

To  bringing  their  women  and  children  they  were  slow 
to  consent,  but  at  last  agreed,  three  to  go  to  fetch  them,  one 
to  stay.  Then  again  came  a  rub ;  the  man  picked  to  stay 
with  us  objected  that  he  had  a  lot  of  honey  marked  that  his 
family  needed;  we  would  give  them  posho  in  its  stead; 
basi  (enough),  and  he  had  to  concur.  Then  he  was  re- 
minded that  he  had  at  home  a  new  toto  he  must  go  fetch, 
as  his  wife  would  have  all  she  could  carry  in  the  shape  of 
family  gods  and  goods;  we  would  send  a  porter  to  carry 
the  baby ;  basi ,  and  he  gave  it  up. 

That  night,  to  my  regret,  I  had  to  decree  corporal 
punishment.  In  fact,  no  man  can  run  an  African  safari 
and  maintain  order  and  obedience  among  his  men  without 
an  occasional  flogging  with  the  kiboko,  a  heavy,  flexible 
whip  three  to  four  feet  long,  cut  from  a  single  strip  of 
rhino  or  hippo  hide. 

Kindness  the  African  native  mistakes  for  fear  of  him. 


A   HIDEOUS  OLD   HAUNTER       137 

Gratitude  he  is  innocent  of  —  perhaps  because  generations 
of  Arab  dominion,  tyranny,  and  cruelty,  which  must  have 
served  largely  to  mould  his  character,  never  afforded  him 
anything  to  be  grateful  for.  If  bred  of  a  warrior  race,  he 
is  apt  to  stick  beside  you  in  the  face  of  a  lion,  elephant, 
rhino,  or  buffalo  charge,  but  only  because  to  run  would 
stamp  him  among  his  fellows  as  a  coward,  unworthy  to 
bear  arms.  But  pull  one,  drowning,  from  a  river  at  risk 
of  your  own  life,  or  nurse  him  of  wounds  or  through  a 
threatened  mortal  sickness  though  you  may,  such  are 
always  among  the  first  to  shirk  or  desert  you  in  time  of 
need.  Flog  one  soundly  for  his  derelictions  and  you 
have  an  industrious,  cheerfully  obedient  servant. 

With  us  that  far  bluff  and  threats  had  largely  served, 
for  I  was  reluctant  to  resort  to  whipping  where  it  could 
be  avoided,  but  at  last  I  found  my  threats  had  worn 
threadbare. 

The  day's  march  was  a  very  short  one,  and  as  early 
as  8  A.  M.  we  had  left  our  donkeys  at  the  Maggori,  no 
more  than  three  miles  back  from  our  new  permanent 
camp,  and  had  put  our  headman  with  them  to  hasten  for- 
ward the  head  donkey  man,  Mafuta,  and  his  charges,  for 
the  day  threatened  rain  and  that  serious  injury  to  the 
posho  and  to  several  uncured  head  skins  the  donkeys 
carried. 

Two  natives  serving  as  headmen  I  had  already  deposed 
for  failure  to  keep  our  marching  column  safely  closed  up, 
and  the  then  incumbent  was  Marini,  a  six-foot-two  Men- 
yamwezi  giant. 

Hours  passed,  but  no  donkeys  came.  Three  times  dur- 
ing the  day  I  sent  messengers  to  hasten  them,  the  first  two 
returning  with  word  they  were  unloaded  and  resting  at 


138  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

the  Maggori.  Late  in  the  afternoon  the  third  message 
reached  Marini  and  Mafuta,  that  if  they  did  not  bring  their 
men  and  animals  on  at  once  I  would  come  back  and  kufa 
(kill)  the  pair.  This  served  to  the  extent  of  fetching  them 
into  camp  nearly  two  hours  after  dark  with  every  load 
drenched,  for  meantime  a  heavy  thunder  storm  had  broken 
over  us. 

There  were  no  questions,  for  apology  or  excuse  was 
impossible;  the  donkeys  were  fat  and  underloaded,  men 
and  beasts  fresh  of  several  days'  rest,  the  morning's 
march  to  the  Maggori  only  two  hours,  and  yet  both  Marini 
and  Mafuta  came  in  sulky,  glowering,  rebellious,  their 
men  grinning  over  "doing"  a  muzungu  out  of  a  day's 
loafing  as  they  liked. 

About  the  alternately  blazing  and  spluttering  fire, 
for  the  foliage  above  our  forest  camp  was  still  dripping  of 
the  rain,  sat  a  grim  group  of  Wanderobo  and  Lumbwa, 
the  fire  glinting  brightly  from  their  ivory-white  teeth  as 
from  the  long  blades  of  their  straight-planted  spears, 
slicing  huge  mouthfuls  of  meat  from  the  roasting  sticks 
before  them  with  their  sharp  sword  blades,  and  wolfing 
down  the  meat  like  beasts,  —  apathetic  spectators  of  and 
a  fitting  frame  for  the  savage  punishment  necessary  to 
prevent  a  general  revolt. 

"Mafuta,  strip  and  chine  (down),"  my  interpreter 
called. 

For  an  instant  Mafuta  glowered  rebellion,  and  then 
sullenly  stripped  himself  of  the  tatterdemalion  wreck  of  a 
brown  cord  coat  that  began  and  ended  his  costume,  and 
dropped  to  the  ground  beside  the  fire,  prone  upon  his 
face. 

"Marini,  give  him  ten!"  was  the  next  order. 


A   HIDEOUS  OLD  HAUNTER       139 

Fancying  himself  well  out  of  it,  Marini  handed  Mafuta 
ten  beauties,  administered  with  absolute  impartiality, 
five  on  either  half  of  the  buttocks,  under  which  the  cul- 
prit winced  and  writhed  but  uttered  no  plaint. 

Marini  stepped  back  and  Mafuta  bounded  to  his  feet, 
drew  himself  up,  and  saluted  me  with  one  hand  while  rub- 
bing with  the  other  whichever  place  still  hurt  most,  a 
smile  on  his  face,  and  a  cheerful  "  Thanks,  bwana  (mas- 
ter) "  he  really  meant,  an  ugly  rebel  converted  to  a  lot 
better  opinion  of  his  employer.  Off  he  started,  but  only 
to  be  stopped. 

"Ewgoja  (wait),  Mafuta!  Chine,  Marini!  Mafuta,  give 
Marini  ten  of  the  best!" 

A  shot  would  have  startled  the  giant  less,  but  down 
he  lay  and  at  him  Mafuta  flew,  with  a  vigor  that  could 
have  left  no  doubt  in  Marini's  mind  that  Mafuta  had 
become  a  wholehearted  and  sincere  convert  to  the  beauti- 
ful theory  so  few  are  willing  to  practise,  that  it  is  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive! 

Now  come  within  fifty  or  sixty  miles  of  Kericho,  the 
nearest  Government  police  post  and  mail  and  telegraph 
station,  Outram  started  on  the  eighth  on  another  try  to 
get  my  mail,  with  nine  porters  to  fetch  new  supplies,  and 
followed  by  little  yellow  Pugge.  Later  in  the  day  we 
missed  Rollo,  the  big  setter,  and  concluded  he  had  fol- 
lowed Outram's  safari. 

Outram  off,  Jordan  hurried  away  the  three  Wanderobo 
to  bring  up  their  village  and  sent  three  Lumbwa,  Arab 
Tumo,  Arab  Barta,  and  Arab  Sendow,  out  on  a  scout  to 
locate  elephant.  Then  he,  Mataia,  Mosoni,  and  I  started 
out  on  a  search  for  rhino,  which  there  are  found  with  horns 
up  to  thirty-four  inches  in  length  and  would  therefore 


140  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

make  my  N'gari  Kiti  twenty-three  and  one-half  inches 
kill  look  like  a  toto. 

For  two  hours  we  skirted  the  edge  of  forest,  looking 
for  the  track  of  a  big  fellow  returning  from  the  night's 
feeding  to  his  customary  morning  nap  in  the  bush;  but, 
finding  no  spoor  except  of  some  of  moderate  size,  we  spent 
another  two  hours  within  the  forest,  on  the  chance  of 
sighting  or  hearing  one  worth  while. 

And  it  is  downright  breath-holding  work,  nothing  less, 
I  believe,  for  even  the  coldest  blooded  man,  poking  along 
forest  paths  strewn  with  fresh  rhino  and  buffalo  sign, 
always  in  dusk  like  late  twilight,  sometimes  along  low, 
winding  tunnels  through  tangles  of  vines,  sometimes 
along  high-arched  aisles,  always  surrounded  on  all  sides 
by  an  eight-foot,  broad-leaved  bush  suggesting  the  rhodo- 
dendron and  carrying  great  clusters  of  pale  golden  fruit 
that  look  like  bunches  of  lemon-yellow  grapes,  whose 
dense  green  mass  seldom  opens  you  a  view  of  more  than 
five  or  ten  yards'  distance  and  makes  most  awkward 
going  when  one  has  to  side-step  a  charge.  There  was  a 
fascination  in  it  I  could  not  resist,  and  yet  whenever  I 
stepped  out  of  the  threat-holding  shadows  of  the  wood, 
back,  half-blinded,  into  the  light  and  warmth  of  the  sun, 
I  always  found  myself  feeling  much  as  I  fancy  a  man  must 
feel  who  might  have  the  luck  to  find  himself  climbing  out 
of  his  own  grave.  Perhaps  older  hands  get  used  to  it, 
but  I  know  I  never  did.  And  even  Arab  Tumo,  who  for 
four  hours  stalked  ahead  of  me  silent  as  a  graven  image, 
himself  the  vanquisher,  with  no  aid  but  that  of  his  own 
good  spear,  of  sixty  rhino,  I  noted  approached  every  path- 
turn  crouched  and  muscle  taut  for  an  instant  shift. 

Now  and  again  the  paths  were  widened  into  broad 
bed  chambers  shaped  by  the  big  fellows,  always  in  the 


A  HIDEOUS  OLD  HAUNTER       141 

lowest,  densest  roofed  bush  where  the  floor  was  softly 
strewn  with  bits  of  broken  twigs,  again  dropped  steeply 
down  to  deep,  clear,  cold  pools,  richly  tapestried  round 
about  with  the  pale  green  of  their  moss-covered  rock  walls, 
the  baths  rhino  and  buffalo  love  to  cool  themselves  in 
after  a  strenuous  night  afoot. 

The  first  hour  our  only  real  sensation  was  a  crashing 
stampede  of  buffalo  that  caught  our  wind  before  we 
sighted  them  —  and  evidently  did  n't  like  it,  for  off  to  the 
left  through  the  timber  they  raced. 

The  second  hour  we  struck  the  fresh  spoor  of  two  very 
big  male  lion  and  followed  it  from  one  path  to  another 
until  finally  they  left  the  paths  and  bore  away  into  thickets 
where  we  lost  all  trace  of  them. 

Then  we  quit  for  the  day  and  jogged  back  to  camp  and 
a  late  luncheon,  where  we  found  the  fourth  Wanderobo 
had  slipped  away  unseen,  whether  for  his  honey  or  his 
toto  we  could  only  guess. 

With  no  word  come  of  our  elephant  scouts,  we  spent 
the  next  forenoon  on  the  fresh  spoor  of  two  rhino,  one  a 
splendid  big  bull  by  his  footprints,  the  other  a  cow.  And 
it  was  an  everlasting  lot  of  sweet  things  the  pair  must  have 
had  to  tell  each  other.  For  five  hours  we  kept  after  them, 
rarely  along  paths,  breaking  through  patches  of  bush 
or  corners  of  virgin  wood  only  to  wind  away  at  random 
through  long  grass,  for  all  the  world  like  two  lovers  blind 
to  all  but  each  other  and  seeking  seclusion  from  their 
kind.  Three  times  we  heard  them  near  ahead  of  us  in 
the  rhododendrons,  but  before  we  could  finish  a  safe 
stalk  they  had  moved  on  —  and  on  and  on  they  so  out- 
footed  us  until  Arab  Tumo  decided  they  were  moving 
range  to  the  Cabanoa  Hills,  and  that  it  was  useless  to 
follow  them  longer. 


X 

IN  THE  TALL   GRASS   TUSKERS   LOVE 

SHORTLY  after  we  got  into  camp  at  3  P.  M.,  Feb- 
ruary 10,  at  the  end  of  an  eight  hours'  tramp,  five 
hours  on  rhino  spoor  and  three  hours  returning 
from  where  we  had  abandoned  it,  our  three  elephant  scouts 
came  in  with  the  good  news  they  had  located  a  herd  of 
thirty  to  forty  head  on  the  Sambi  River,  west  of  the 
Cabanoa  Hills  and  about  twenty  miles  from  our  camp, 
probably  ten  miles  south  of  the  Government  Boma  of 
Kisii.  They  had  seen  only  two  big  bulls,  both  good  tusk- 
ers, but  had  heard  the  tree-smashing  of  a  considerable 
herd  they  estimated  as  stated. 

So  far,  good;  but  the  rest  of  their  news  was  disap- 
pointing. The  elephant  were  in  the  worst  possible  country, 
scarcely  any  forest  except  a  few  very  narrow  belts  in  the 
valleys,  and  everywhere  else,  on  bottom  lands,  hillslopes, 
and  summits,  elephant  grass  and  dry,  brittle  weeds  twelve 
to  eighteen  feet  high  that  enshroud  one  like  a  mist  and 
make  close  stalking  well-nigh  impossible,  and  even  more 
difficult  to  wallow  through,  and  more  exhausting,  than 
snowdrifts. 

Then,  for  me,  more  bad  news;  none  of  the  Wanderobo 
had  come  in  —  to  my  great  disappointment  and  Jordan's 
bitter  disgust.  Even  the  prospect  of  a  possible  elephant 
kill  and  feast  had  not  served  to  tempt  the  tribe  from  its 
forest  retreat,  whether  from  fear  I  was  some  sort  of  Gov- 
ernment official  come  to  clip  their  liberty,  or  from  the 

142 


IN   TALL  GRASS   TUSKERS  LOVE     143 

deep-seated  suspicion  these  wild-wood  rovers  hold  of  all 
white  men,  we  knew  not. 

That  evening  I  found  myself  rechristened  by  Mataia. 

Since  his  coming  to  camp  I  had  observed  him  watching 
my  every  movement,  following  me  about,  intently  study- 
ing my  most  trivial  doings;  why,  I  was  at  a  loss  to  under- 
stand. But,  plainly,  in  one  way  or  another  I  was  a  most 
perplexing  puzzle  to  him. 

At  first  his  manner  rather  hinted  disapproval,  but 
after  a  three  days'  run  of  particularly  good  shooting  luck, 
whereby  I  had  killed  several  buck,  all  the  camp  needed, 
each  with  a  single  first  shot  and  two  at  rather  long  ranges, 
he  seemed  to  melt  a  bit.  Then  had  come  the  two  wearing 
days  on  rhino  trails,  fruitless,  but  persistently  followed 
wherever  they  led. 

That  evening  I  noted  him  having  a  long  shauri  with 
Jordan,  the  substance  of  which  was  later^communicated 
to  me. 

"Mapengo"  (Jordan's  native  name,  meaning  "false 
teeth"),  Mataia  began,  "do  all  the  very  old  white-haired 
men  like  Kimerije  work  as  hard  to  get  meat  in  their  own 
country  as  he  does  here?" 

"Who  the  devil  is  Kimerije?  What  do  you  mean?" 
Jordan  asked. 

"Why,  the  Bwana  Mkubwa  [great  master],  of  course. 
His  camp  is  full  of  food,  and  yet  he  hunts  all  the  time  for 
meat  like  a  starving  Wanderobo  for  honey.  Was  he  a 
great  elmoran  [warrior]  among  his  people  when  he  was 
young?" 

"I  'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  Jordan  answered. 

."Well,  /  know,"  Mataia  resumed;  "he  must  have 
been.  Why,  most  all  old  men  won't  do  anything  but  sit 


144  IN  CLOSED   TERRITORY 

about  and  eat  and  drink  wembe,  play  with  their  women 
and  children,  and  wratch  their  sheep  and  cows.  It  is  only 
the  gray-heads  who  have  in  their  time  been  big  elmorani, 
terrors  to  their  neighbors  and  sackers  of  big  loot,  who 
can't  long  content  themselves  about  their  huts  and 
herds,  but  always  must  be  slipping  off  into  the  bush  with 
their  spears,  wandering  prowlers  to  the  end  like  old 
Labusoni. 

"Yes,  that 's  it  —  not  a  doubt.  Why,  did  n't  you  see 
him  laughing  to  himself  when  the  buffalo  were  smashing 
past  us,  and  then  again,  after  we  heard  the  blow  of  that 
old  rutting  rhino  bull  and  were  slipping  up  on  him  ?  Yes, 
yes;  that  's  the  right  name  I  've  given  him,  Kimhije." 

"Kimerije?"  Jordan  questioned.  "Whatever  does 
that  mean  in  Lumbwa?" 

" Kimerije?"  Mataia  answered.  "Why  it  means  the 
elmoran  who  always  laughs  —  that  's  Bwana  Mkubwa." 

Mataia  may  have  been  right;  perhaps  I  did  laugh 
in  the  forest  at  the  stampede  of  buffalo  and  at  the  rhino 
snorts,  but  if  I  did  I  now  apologize  to  both  buffalo  and 
rhino,  for  so  far  as  my  memory  serves  to  recall  my  most 
vivid  impressions  on  those  two  occasions,  irrepressible 
merriment  was  not  one  of  them. 

Sunrise  of  February  n  found  us  already  trekking 
toward  the  elephant  herd  reported  the  night  before  by  our 
Lumbwa  scouts.  With  us  Jordan  and  I  took  a  tent  fly, 
our  guns  and  blankets,  a  six  days'  supply  of  food,  my 
boy  Salem  as  cook,  Mataia  and  six  of  his  elmorani  as 
scouts,  and  eight  porters,  more  or  less  of  whom  we  hoped 
to  bring  back  loaded  with  ivory. 

Our  course  was  northwest,  crossing  the  deep  valley 
of  the  Rongana  River  at  the  salt  springs,  an  hour  later 


GEORGE  IT.  OUTRAM,  MATAIA,  PUGGE,  AND  WANDEROBO  HUNTERS 


A::A:S  'IV. MO  (LUMBWA)  CLIMBING  TREE  TO  LOOK  FOR  ELEPHANT 


IN   TALL  GRASS   TUSKERS   LOVE     145 

fording  the  N'garoyo,  thence  through  a  corner  of  the 
Cabanoa  Forest,  full  of  rhino  and  buffalo  that  kept  us 
dodging  to  avoid  encounters  which  would  compel  us  to 
shoot  and  might  alarm  elephant  —  for  our  entire  day's 
march  was  through  country  which  always  holds  more  or 
less  elephant  and  which  is  swarming  with  them  during 
the  big  rains. 

Altogether  we  were  probably  two  hours  in  a  forest 
none  but  natives  could  have  wormed  us  through  without 
using  pangas  (bush  knives),  leaving  which  Mataia  led 
us  up  the  slopes  of  the  Cabanoa  Hills,  toward  their  crest, 
always  in  grass  above  our  heads,  in  vines  or  bush,  clam- 
bering through  the  reeds  or  slipping  into  the  muck  of 
swamps,  sometimes  for  half  an  hour  across  dry,  level 
stretches  so  trampled  by  elephant  during  the  rains  that 
we  had  to  pick  every  footstep  to  avoid  a  broken  leg, 
likely  to  come  of  slipping  into  some  grass-hidden  hole 
eighteen  to  thirty-six  inches  deep,  stamped  by  huge 
pachyderm  feet.  And  hot  ?  Well,  rather!  It  was  then  the 
height  of  the  dryest  and  hottest  season  of  that  region,  less 
than  a  month  before  the  big  rains  were  due  to  begin,  and 
from  dawn  to  dark  the  sun  poured  down  its  hottest 
furnace  rays  out  of  a  sky  that  pitilessly  denied  one  the 
temporary  shelter  of  a  cloud, — burning  rays  never  tempered 
even  measurably  save  occasionally  by  the  smoke  of  great 
grass  fires  then  burning  all  about  us,  the  work  of  reckless 
Wanderobo  and  other  native  honey  hunters.  So  that, 
while  starting  from  an  altitude  of  5,500  feet  at  our  Ron- 
gana  camp  and  climbing  more  or  less  steadily  toward 
the  7,ooo-foot  crest  of  the  Cabanoas,  and  while  it  was 
delightfully  cool,  almost  chill,  anywhere  in  the  forest  or 
even  beneath  tree  shade  in  the  open,  one  could  not  walk 


146  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

ten  minutes  in  the  sun  before  every  stitch  of  clothing  was 
as  sopping  wet  as  if  he  had  come  out  of  a  plunge  in  water; 
and  after  an  hour  or  two  in  the  open,  toiling  across  the 
heart-breaking,  heavy  going  that  ever  beset  us,  the  crown 
of  one's  head  felt  as  if  the  sun  were  persistently  boring  a 
hole  in  it  that  must  be  nearly  through  the  skull,  for  it 
hurt  cruelly,  and  nothing  relieved  it  but  frequent  liftings 
of  the  hemlet. 

For  me,  sound  in  wind  and  limb,  it  was  bad  enough, 
but  for  Jordan  every  step  must  have  been  torture. 
Indeed,  throughout  this  hunt  the  man  was  a  superb 
object  lesson  in  patient,  unwincing  fortitude  and  iron 
will  power.  In  his  condition,  I  myself  should  have  been 
hunting  a  hospital  or  an  undertaker  in  quick  preference 
to  an  elephant  or  any  other  game. 

Scarce  two  months  before  up  from  a  long  siege  of 
black-water  fever  (his  fifth  attack,  and  most  men  do  not 
survive  the  third),  down  twice  within  a  fortnight  of  a 
heavy  go  of  the  plain  garden  variety  of  malarial  fever 
few  there  escape,  thin  and  weak  in  all  but  will,  his  ban- 
daged right  leg  improving  but  still  more  or  less  raw  of 
eczema  from  instep  to  knee,  on  he  plodded  or  raced  from 
day  to  day  with  never  a  murmur,  save  an  occasional 
whole-souled  curse  of  a  stumble  or  a  thorn. 

Asked  how  he  was  getting  on,  always  quickly  came 
back  a  cheerful  "Right-oh,  old  chap!  Never  better!" 

Fortitude!  A  fortitude  that  would  have  made  me 
utterly  ashamed  to  complain  in  his  presence  of  any  bodily 
suffering  short  of  a  broken  neck,  and  I  fancy  one  would  n't 
have  time  to  say  much  about  that. 

Inflexible,   indomitable,   mandatory  will,   acting   on 


H7 

fever-weakened  joints,  shrunken  muscles,  aching  nerve 
centres,  that  was  all  that  drove  the  man  along. 

But  then,  if  there  are  elephant  in  whatever  realm 
Jordan's  death-released  spirit  finds  ultimate  lodgment, 
out  somewhere  in  the  forest  or  the  tall  grass  the  big 
tuskers  love  will  be  the  most  likely  place  to  look  for  it. 

About  three  hours  out,  Arab  Tumo  and  Arab  Barta 
were  ordered  to  scout  ahead,  and  bounding  through  the 
grass  like  scared  impala,  were  lost  to  our  sight  after  a 
half-dozen  jumps.  Any  movement  of  the  herd  from 
their  position  of  the  day  before  must  be  noted,  and  it  was 
not  at  all  improbable  the  elephant  might  have  crossed  the 
crest  of  Cabanoas  and  be  in  our  immediate  front.  Then 
complete  silence  was  required  of  the  little  close-moving 
column,  and  on  we  moved  as  quietly  as  we  could,  climb- 
ing, ever  climbing,  slowly,  for  though  the  slope  was  low 
it  was  still  enough  to  keep  one's  bellows  busy. 

At  length,  after  eight  hours'  marching,  during  which  we 
had  covered  no  more  than  a  scant  ten  miles,  ourselves 
worn  to  a  frazzle,  Mataia  camped  us  in  a  thicket  beside  a 
tiny  brook  well  up  toward  the  top  of  the  Cabanoas,  beside 
a  brook  so  newly  born  in  the  bush  just  above  us  that  it 
had  not  yet  found  voice,  its  water  clear  as  crystal  and 
cold  as  ice. 

Down  to  and  across  the  brook  we  had  followed  a 
deep- worn  buffalo  path,  full  of  sign  made  that  morning, 
and  our  camp  was  pitched  literally  within  a  big  buffalo 
dormitory,  where  by  long  use  they  had  worn  out  wide, 
smooth-floored  chambers  dimly  lighted  at  midday  by  a 
few  of  the  more  curious  sun  rays  that  contrived  to  peep 
through  the  thick-roofing  jungle. 


i48  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

To  tell  the  truth,  had  I  been  less  tired,  it  is  more  than 
likely  I  should  have  tried  to  seek  lodgings  more  conducive 
to  sound,  uninterrupted  sleep  —  where  less  likely,  as  a 
trespasser,  to  have  a  dispossession  notice  poked  at  me  in 
the  form  of  a  pair  of  forty-inch  buffalo  horns.  But,  really, 
there  was  " nowhere  to  go  but  out"  —  out  into  the  pet 
lodgings  of  one  sort  or  another  of  the  Big  Fellows,  so  we 
were  about  as  well  off  there  as  anywhere. 

Not  until  nightfall  did  our  scouts  return  —  with  word 
the  main  herd  had  not  moved  from  its  previous  day's 
range  along  the  Sambi,  but  that  four  big  fellows,  probably 
the  big  bull  scouts  of  the  herd,  were  half-way  up  the 
farther  hillslope,  headed  toward  a  pass  whose  trails  led 
across  our  brook  a  few  yards  above  us  —  apparently  the 
lead  of  a  trek  of  the  lot  back  to  the  Rongana  salt  springs 
they  never  long  leave. 

It  was  a  beautiful  pickle  we  were  in,  a  regular  cul-de- 
sac,  camped  as  we  were  virtually  athwart  the  main 
elephant  highway  between  the  Sambi  and  their  dearly 
loved  salt  springs,  any  move  in  darkness  of  our  camp  and 
its  slender  equipment  utterly  impossible  without  the 
probability  of  neck-breaking  or  eye-blinding,  and  no 
moon  till  near  morning! 

But  there  we  were  and  there  we  had  to  stay. 

Chill,  almost  bitter,  though  the  night  was,  none  but 
the  tiniest  twig  fires  were  permitted,  just  enough  to  fry 
our  meat  and  to  boil  our  coffee  and  the  men's  posho- 
heaped  sufurias. 

Absolute  silence  among  the  noisy  porters  was  easily 
obtained  by  placing  among  them  a  Lumbwa  elmoran, 
with  orders  to  smash  with  his  rungu  (knob-kerrie)  the 


IN  TALL  GRASS   TUSKERS   LOVE    149 

first  noisy  mouth,  —  orders  he  would  have  been  delighted 
to  execute  on  the  first  offender. 

Then,  dead  fagged  of  the  tough  day,  and  having 
arranged  a  night  watch  of  the  camp,  with  orders  to  rouse 
us  quickly  at  the  first  sound  of  elephant,  buffalo,  or  rhino, 
J ordan  and  I  turned  in,  —  and  never  opened  an  eye  till 
called  by  Salem  at  dawn,  the  buffalo  having,  obviously, 
lodged  elsewhere,  and  the  tuskers  stopped  somewhere 
en  route. 

Before  sun-up,  Arab  Tumo  and  Arab  Barta  were  off 
ahead  of  us.  Shortly  thereafter,  coffee  and  a  snack 
gobbled  down,  Jordan  and  I  followed.  The  wind  barring 
us  from  the  pass,  we  were  forced  to  climb  straight  for  the 
summit,  two  miles  west  of  the  pass,  a  smooth  enough 
climb,  for  large  areas  thereabouts  had  recently  been 
burned,  but  so  steep  it  made  tough,  slow  going. 

While  we  were  still  a  hundred  feet  below  the  summit, 
our  two  scouts  appeared  upon  it,  stopping  and  resting 
upon  their  spears,  silhouetted  against  the  clear  blue  sky, 
still  as  ebony  statues.  Evidently  their  task  was  finished 
—  they  had  the  elephant  marked  down. 

Come  to  them,  they  silently  pointed  far  down  below 
and  off  to  the  south  of  us,  where  for  a  time  I  could  see 
nothing  but  the  landscape.  Presently,  however,  my  eyes 
caught  glints  of  sunlight  off  ivory,  but  that  was  all;  the 
huge  bodies  were  indistinguishable  in  the  high  grass  and 
weeds  about  them. 

And  yet,  looking  dowrn  from  our  lofty  perch  on  Caba- 
noas'  crest,  to  right,  left,  and  front  of  us  rolled  wave  on 
wave  of  what  looked  like  gently  undulating  short-grassed 
meadow  land,  the  grass  seeded  and  browning,  slashed 


1 50  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

here  and  there  with  the  rich  dark  green  of  the  narrow 
strips  of  reeds  and  bush  fringing  marsh  and  watercourse, 
showing  few  trees  and  no  bush  outside  the  timber.  And 
there  at  our  feet  lay  a  country  so  terrible  that  I  could 
wish  my  bitterest  enemy  no  worse  fate  than  to  be  com- 
pelled to  tramp  five  miles  a  day  across  it  throughout 
eternity. 

From  us  the  elephant  were  there  about  two  miles 
distant,  on  the  southern  slope  of  the  pass  we  had  feared 
they  might  bring  the  herd  through  the  night  before,  per- 
haps four  miles  from  our  camp.  To  get  the  wind  of  them 
properly  for  safe  stalking,  we  must  swing  a  good  mile 
to  the  west  of  them. 

Down  we  started,  down  the  steep,  fire-blackened  slope, 
as  fast  as  we  could  go. 

For  a  mile,  while  crossing  the  "burn,"  we  had  open 
going,  but  then  we  plunged  into  elephant  grass  and  weeds 
twice  our  height,  into  which  everywhere  Dame  Nature, 
in  one  of  her  less  kindly  moods,  had  artfully  interwoven 
a  slender  bush,  half  of  whose  stalks  stood  honestly  upright 
and  bore  great  clusters  of  lilac-hued  flowers,  while  the 
other  misbegotten  half  were  bent  and  looped  in  the 
grass  at  every  angle  best  calculated  to  catch  a  boot-toe 
and  toss  one  a  header  or  to  enmesh  a  foot  and  wrench 
or  break  a  leg.  And  once  in  it,  one  instantly  lost  the 
free  control  of  all  his  functions  but  one,  which  happily 
was  stimulated  to  abnormal  capacity  —  viz.,  the  ability 
to  tell  the  infernal  stuff  what  he  thought  of  it,  and  to 
tell  it  all. 

Just  before  we  left  the  burnt  area,  the  elephant  shifted 
their  position  slightly  and  I  had  my  first  good  view  of  them, 
three  huge  brown  backs,  one  towering  above  his  mates  to 


IN   TALL  GRASS  TUSKERS   LOVE     151 

magnificent  height,  evidently  one  of  the  rare  prizes  in 
these  late  day  hard  to  find  east  of  the  Congo. 

The  steep  slope  of  the  mountain  ended  in  the  narrow 
valley  of  the  Sambi,  there  timberless,  in  places  marshy 
and  full  of  tall  reeds  and  cat-tails,  elsewhere  dry  save  for 
great  pools  trampled  all  about  by  the  Big  Ones,  pools 
where  they  love  to  pump  up  hogsheads  of  water  in  their 
trunks  and  shower  themselves. 

Crossing  the  valley,  we  climbed  its  steep  southern 
slope  until,  off  an  anthill,  we  again  got  a  glimpse  of  the 
three,  finding  that  they  were  near  their  first  position  and 
that  we  then  fairly  had  the  wind  of  them,  though  it  was 
dangerously  light  and  shifty.  Then  straight  toward 
them  we  walked,  due  east,  another  half-hour  until  we 
reached  the  descent  into  a  ravine  on  the  eastern  slope  of 
which  they  stood,  perhaps  sixty  yards  from  its  bottom 
and  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from  us.  From  our 
elevated  position  the  backs  of  the  two  larger  ones  were 
plainly  to  be  seen,  with  now  and  then  a  glimpse  of  the 
smaller  one.  The  big  one  was  indeed  a  giant.  Once  his 
biggest  mate  moved  behind  him  and  disappeared,  while 
No.  3  easily  hid  behind  No.  2.  At  intervals  we  had  in 
turn  first  three,  then  two,  and  then  only  one  elephant 
before  us! 

There  we  stood  on  the  hillside,  in  plain  sight  of  them 
but  beyond  their  short  eye-range,  for  probably  fifteen 
minutes,  watching  the  great  ears  lazily  swing  back  and 
forth,  like  idle  sails  flapping  in  light  air,  and  listened  to 
their  rolling  stomach  rumbles  that  told  of  comfortable 
surfeit,  advising  under  our  breath  whether  to  attack  or 
wait  till  they  made  into  the  shade  they  were  sure  soon  to 
be  seeking,  —  finally  deciding  to  advance.  It  was  a 


1 52  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

chance  we  could  not  afford  to  lose,  for  before  us  were 
three  splendid  bulls,  the  smallest  one  good  enough  to 
satisfy  most  men. 

After  the  first  few  steps  of  the  descent  we  again  lost 
sight  of  them. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  ravine  we  passed  a  lone  tree  at 
least  sixty  feet  in  height,  and  then  began  a  slow  and  the 
most  silent  possible  stalk  up  the  hill  straight  to  them. 
But  before  we  had  gone  twenty  yards  we  realized  that 
successful  direct  approach  was  utterly  impossible  —  get 
through  the  frightful  tangle  of  grass  and  shrubs  we  could 
not  without  swishings  and  cracklings  of  the  dry  weeds 
their  keen  ears  would  be  sure  to  hear  before  we  could 
hope  to  sight  them  and  get  a  shot,  and  the  instant  they 
heard  us  there  would  be  a  rush  down  to  investigate  the 
intruders  or  away  to  lose  them. 

So  back  down  the  hill  we  crept  to  the  tree  and  there 
stopped,  puzzled  what  to  do,  until  twigs  dropping  on  our 
heads  attracted  our  attention  aloft,  and  there,  perched  on 
a  high  limb  forty  feet  from  the  ground,  sat  old  Mataia, 
gesturing  violently  that  he  had  the  elephant  in  full  view 
and  beckoning  us  up. 

"Up!  up!"  whispered  Jordan.  "Up  quick,  it's  your 
only  chance  of  a  shot." 

It  was  twelve  feet  to  the  lowest  limb  and  the  main 
trunk  was  nearly  three  feet  in  diameter,  but  off  from  the 
main  trunk,  waist-high  above  the  ground,  grew  a  twin 
trunk  slightly  inclining  away  from  its  mate.  But  what 
then? 

"Can't  do  it,  old  chap,"  I  answered. 

"You  can;  you  can  —  off  with  your  boots!"  came 
back  at  me. 


IN   TALL  GRASS   TUSKERS   LOVE     153 

And  such  is  the  power  of  suggestion  that  in  no  time 
I  had  leggings  and  boots  off,  slung  my  .405  rifle  over  my 
back,  and  managed  to  swarm  up  to  a  painful  three-toe- 
hold in  the  close  V-shaped  crotch.  And  there  I  am  sure 
I  should  have  been  stalled  had  not  Mataia  come  to  the 
lower  limb  and  reached  me  down  his  great  black  hand. 
That,  however,  served  me  well,  and  getting  a  firm  grip  of 
it  I  managed  to  wriggle  my  toes  loose,  when,  with  a  joint 
tug,  I  was  swung  up  to  a  good  grip  of  the  limb,  and  with 
Mataia  still  tugging,  contrived  to  get  on  it. 

There  I  expected  to  see  the  elephant,  but  they  were 
still  invisible.  So  up  another  story  I  swarmed,  that 
stretch  easily  ten  feet,  but  with  the  same  result. 

Meantime  Mataia  had  slipped  up  to  his  first  perch, 
still  another  twenty  feet,  the  last  twelve  feet  up  a  smooth, 
slender,  perpendicular  trunk  I  probably  should  never  have 
negotiated  without  the  aid  of  Mataia,  but  with  his  power- 
ful grip  in  mine,  after  a  couple  of  swings  entirely  free  from 
the  tree  (Jordan  later  assured  me,  although  I  did  not 
realize  it  at  the  time)  he  hitched  me  up  to  where  I  was  able 
to  get  a  grip  with  my  left  hand  and  help  myself  up  to  the 
place  he  had  been  occupying. 

There  at  last,  forty  feet  above  the  ground  and  bal- 
ancing myself  with  my  feet  on  two  wide-spread  limbs 
none  too  strong  for  my  weight,  I  found  myself  at  last 
slightly  higher  than  the  elephant,  sufficiently  to  have  a 
clear  view  of  the  upper  fourth  of  their  great  brown  sides 
and  a  glimpse  of  their  gleaming  ivory. 

Meantime,  Jordan,  my  gun  bearer,  Awala,  and  all 
the  natives  had  swarmed  up  into  the  tree,  Jordan  stop- 
ping on  the  lower  limb. 

My  second  gun,  a  9  m.m.  Mauser,  was  passed  up  to 


154  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

Mataia,  within  arm's  length  beneath  me.  Jordan  had 
my  double  .450,  which  I  should  have  preferred  to  use  but 
that  its  sight  was  so  fine  I  could  not  see  it  well  when  com- 
pelled to  shoot  into  the  sun  or  within  the  shadows  of 
overhanging  foliage. 

Just  then  the  elephant  moved  directly  toward  us,  very 
slowly,  the  big  one  in  the  lead,  stopping  thirty  yards  away 
and  offering  a  perfect  brain  shot.  Keen  to  get  the  pair 
I  hissed  down  to  Jordan,  "Up,  quick,  and  help  make  sure 
of  both." 

"Blight  it,  I  can't!  Never  could  stand  it  up  a  tree! 
Fool  to  come  here!  Wish  I  was  down!"  he  hissed  back. 

"Well,  well,"  I  persisted,  "can't  you  see  them  now 
—  can't  you  shoot  from  where  you  are?" 

"  Just  d  —  d  well  can't,  old  chap,"  Jordan  whispered. 
"Sorry!  But  this  cannon  of  a  .450  would  kick  me  clean 
over  into  the  Sambi.  My  word,  but  it 's  hard  enough 
sticking  here  now!" 

And  then,  just  as  I  was  advancing  my  gun  for  a  bead 
on  No.  I's  head,  off  they  started  again,  and  in  two  or  three 
steps  were  beyond  the  range  of  view  through  the  narrow 
opening  in  the  tree  foliage  before  me,  completely  hidden 
from  sight ;  and  before  I  could  make  shift  to  another  open- 
ing and  get  them  again  in  range,  No.  i  was  about  eighty 
to  one  hundred  yards  off,  angling  away  from  us,  but  mov- 
ing at  a  slow  walk. 

Upon  receiving  my  hard  nose  .405  behind  his  left 
shoulder,  a  useful  shot  ranging  forward,  No.  i  trumpeted 
pain  and  rage,  stopped  an  instant,  swayed,  and  then 
broke  into  —  whatever  the  elephant's  pace  is,  faster  than 
a  walk,  offering  me  a  fair  broadside. 

Frequently  before  my  .405  had  jammed  in  the  mag- 


IN   TALL  GRASS  TUSKERS   LOVE     155 

azine,  the  second  or  third  cartridge  not  coming  up 
level  with  the  chamber  —  a  dangerous  freak  I  failed  to 
fathom  or  correct;  and  I  should  have  discarded  it  long 
before  but  for  its  superior  accuracy  over  any  other  gun 
and  its  hard  hitting.  For  a  fortnight  it  had  been  work- 
ing like  an  angel  and  dropping  in  its  tracks  nearly 
everything  I  pulled  on,  and  therefore  I  had  elected  to  trust 
it  that  morning. 

But  by  every  ill  token,  tight  and  fast  it  jammed  at  the 
first  shot,  compelling  me  to  pass  it  down  to  Mataia  and  get 
the  lighter  Mauser,  and  losing  me  invaluable  time.  How- 
ever, I  was  lucky  enough  to  get  another  shot  into  No.  i 
and  one  into  No.  2  before  they  got  out  of  range,  up  wind. 

Meantime  Jordan  had  dropped  off  his  limb  and  was 
tumbling  through  the  grass,  trying  for  an  elevation  where 
he  could  get  a  shot.  Then,  just  as  I  was  scrambling 
down,  one  of  the  Lumbwa  pointed  out  two  of  the  elephant 
on  our  left,  evidently  circling  west  for  the  wind  of  what- 
ever had  pinked  them,  three  hundred  yards  from  my  tree 
but  only  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  from  Jordan.  There 
we  each  got  two  more  shots,  turning  them  back  east 
again,  out  of  our  sight. 

Rapidly  as  I  could  I  swung  and  slid  to  the  ground  — 
to  find  that  Mosoni,  the  Lumbwa  elmoran  who  took  my 
boots  when  I  pulled  them  off,  had  followed  Jordan  and 
stupidly  carried  my  footgear  along.  But  just  in  the  nick 
of  time  to  save  me  from  going  quite  insane  with  rage, 
Mataia  called  down  and  beckoned  me  to  come  up  aloft 
again.  Sure  they  must  be  returning,  and  having  dis- 
covered, to  my  infinite  surprise,  that  I  had  my  climbing 
clothes  on  that  day,  up  again  I  went  faster  than  before, 
just  in  time  to  get  in  three  good  shots  on  a  tremendous 


156  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

big  fellow  who  was  circling  past  about  sixty  yards  south 
of  us,  swinging  along  at  a  fast  pace,  trunk  up,  sniffing  for 
our  wind.  The  last  shot  badly  hurt  and  stopped  him 
for  a  few  minutes  behind  some  bush,  and  then  he  was  off 
over  a  hill  again,  turned  west. 

And  scarcely  was  this  chap  disappeared  before  bow- 
ling along  came  another  and  smaller  one,  closely  following 
the  trail  of  his  mate.  By  this  time,  Jordan  having  gotten 
back  south  of  the  tree  and  atop  of  the  anthill  from  which 
we  had  had  our  first  good  view  of  them,  we  each  landed 
two  shots  in  him,  when  he,  too,  passed  on  west  out  of 
our  sight. 

By  the  time  I  had  gotten  to  the  ground  and  resumed 
the  boots  Jordan  had  sent  back  to  me,  I  found  myself 
alone  with  my  gun  bearer,  Mataia,  and  Arab  Barta,  all 
of  whom  insisted  that  No.  i,  the  giant  I  first  hit,  had  not 
returned  and  must  be  down  or  badly  sick  to  the  east  of  us, 
holding  that  the  two  which  had  just  passed  us  were  the 
two  smaller  of  the  trio.  However,  preferring  myself  to 
follow  the  trail  of  those  I  knew  to  be  hard  hit,  I  sent 
Awala  and  Barta  on  a  circle  to  the  east  for  sign  of  the  miss- 
ing elephant,  and  with  Mataia  hurried  over  to  the  trail. 

There  was  their  spoor  plain  enough,  both  heavily 
blood-marked,  bearing  west  for  a  mile  and  then  swinging 
south,  still  side  by  side  for  another  half-mile,  when  one 
turned  west  and  the  other  continued  on. 

Which  to  follow  was  a  puzzle,  for  so  far,  through  the 
long  grass  and  over  hard  ground,  I  had  found  no  foot  mark 
to  tell  which  was  the  large  one,  nor  did  I  know  what  had 
become  of  Jordan.  My  choice  was  unfortunate,  for 
after  continuing  on  south  another  hour  the  trail  crossed 
a  marsh  where  I  soon  saw  the  footprints  could  not  be 


RESTING  AFTER  THE  ELEPHANT  KILL 


- 


IN   TALL  GRASS   TUSKERS   LOVE     157 

those  of  the  big  fellow.  So  leaving  Mataia  to  follow  this 
trail,  I  struck  off  southwest  to  try  to  cut  the  other,  wal- 
lowing through  the  grass,  never  with  view  of  anything 
but  sky  and  hillcrests. 

At  length,  when  fagged  to  a  finish  by  exhaustion  and 
thirst,  drenched  with  perspiration,  not  another  mile  of  go 
left  in  me,  just  ahead  I  heard  two  quick  shots  from  the 
big  .450. 

Revived  a  bit  and  hurrying  on,  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards  brought  me  to  Jordan  and  a  dead  monster,  the  man 
reclining  limp  aloft  upon  the  beast's  high-bulging  side 
and  looking  nearly  as  bereft  of  breath  as  was  the  quarry, 
so  dead  beat  that  I  thought  he  was  going  to  roll  off  in  a 
faint. 

Presently,  however,  he  regained  his  wind  and  I  got  his 
story.  At  the  parting  of  the  trails  he  had  chosen  this  one 
and  pounded  along  it  as  fast  as  he  could,  passing  two 
places  where  the  elephant  had  stopped  and  bled  heavily; 
at  length,  come  just  there  near  to  but  unseen  in  his  ap- 
proach, the  beast  caught  his  wind  and  charged  him 
straight,  but  luckily  landing  the  best  possible  turning 
shot  —  midway  of  its  sensitive  trunk  —  he  was  given  the 
chance  of  a  shoulder  shot  that  pierced  the  heart,  of  which 
the  elephant  crashed  to  the  ground  and  never  again  rose. 

The  monster  was  so  enormous  I  never  questioned  he 
was  No.  i  of  the  three,  until  Jordan  panted  angrily, 

"  Just  look  at  him,  the  infernal  blankety-blank  blighter. 
Only  one  tusk,  curse  him!" 

And  upon  pulling  away  the  grass  in  which  the  lower 
half  of  his  head  lay  and  finding  the  startling  statement 
true,  I  cried, 

"Well,  I  am  out  of  luck,  then,  for  he  's  no  elephant 


158  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

of  mine  —  the  three  had  full  sets  of  ivory.     Wherever 
did  he  come  from?" 

"But  he  is  yours,  all  the  same,"  Jordan  answered ;  "he 
has  four  of  your  small  9  m.m.  and  your  .405  in  him,  two 
in  the  lungs,  one  near  the  spine,  one  through  his  tummy, 
and  another  that  must  have  tickled  his  liver.  Look  for 
yourself;  they  are  all  here.  Beggar  would  have  been 
down  in  another  hour  at  the  most,  for  good  —  was  groggy 
when  he  came  for  me. 

"His  ivory  beats  me,  too,  for  I'd  have  sworn  all  three 
had  full  sets;  thought  at  first  he  might  have  broken  it  off 
to  spite  us,  but  you'll  see  the  stump  shows  an  old  break, 
six  inches  from  the  lip.  Hope  it  hurt  the  old  bounder  a 
lot!  Just  fancy!  The  infernal  wasteful  idiot!  D  —  n 
his  eyes,  anyway!  Old  enough  to  know  better!  Twelve 
or  fifteen  hundred  nice  juicy  rupees  stuck  in  his  face, 
and  he  has  to  go  and  lose  half  of  them!" 

But,  disappointing  as  he  was  from  the  commercial 
point  of  view  of  an  old  professional  ivory  hunter,  he  was 
nevertheless  such  a  gorgeous  trophy  as  I  had  never  dared 
hope  for. 

His  good  tusk  was  6  feet,  4  inches  in  length  and  17 
inches  in  circumference  at  the  lip,  weighing  62  pounds, 
and  clean  kutch  (prime)  ivory  at  that,  while  the  stump 
weighed  21  pounds,  a  total  of  83  pounds,  light  enough 
to  be  sure,  but  in  height  at  the  withers  (measuring  perpen- 
dicularly and  not  along  body  curves)  he  stood  1 1  feet,  4 
inches,  while  his  length  from  tip  of  trunk  to  tip  of  tail 
was  27  feet,  8  inches,  his  girth  about  the  middle  19  feet, 
the  circumference  of  his  front  foot  60  inches,  and  length 
of  ear  from  base  to  tip  41  inches. 

And  precisely  in  these  measurements  lies  a  record  the 


IN  TALL  GRASS  TUSKERS  LOVE     159 

oldest  trekker  across  African  veldt  and  highlands  would 
be  bound  to  feel  proud  of;  for  on  my  return  to  Juja  and 
an  opportunity  to  consult  Rowland  Ward's  "Records 
of  Big  Game,"  I  found  that  my  old  Monarch  of  the  Ca- 
banoas  is  no  less  than  the  third  largest  elephant  ever  shot ; 
only  two  have  equalled  him,  and  they  beat  him  —  one 
shot  in  Abyssinia  measuring  n  feet,  8J  inches  in  height, 
one  shot  near  Wadelai  measuring  1 1  feet,  6  inches,  while 
only  two  are  recorded  of  larger  foot  measurement  than 
his  of  60  inches.  Thus,  while  modest  in  ivory,  he  takes 
third  place  in  the  record  of  the  giants  of  his  kind. 

Whether  or  not  he  was  actually  the  real  giant,  No.  i, 
for  certain,  we  never  learned,  but  surely  he  must  have 
been.  Awala  and  Barta  returned  late  that  evening  and 
reported  they  had  found  nothing  but  the  two  blood  spoors 
we  had  followed,  while  Mataia  came  in  long  after  dark 
and  reported  that  he  had  followed  the  spoor  of  the  smaller 
elephant  until  from  congealing,  blood  flow  ceased,  and 
shortly  thereafter  had  lost  it  in  a  maze  of  other  tracks. 

Lying  about  our  fire  that  evening  waiting  for  the 
safari,  for  which  we  had  sent  Mosoni,  to  come  up,  when 
I  expressed  my  mortification  at  having  to  go  on  record 
as  having  shot  my  first  (and  perhaps  my  last)  elephant 
from  the  security  of  a  treetop,  Jordan  growled, 

"Well,  you  can  just  stow  all  your  worry  about  that, 
old  chap.  Security?  Hell!" 

"Why?"  I  asked,  in  real  surprise. 

"Why?  Why,  blight  me,  but  I'd  rather  face  the 
straight  charge  of  the  maddest  old  tusker  than  try  to 
swarm  up  that  tree  where  you  were!  That 's  one  'why.' 
Another  you  'd  have  found  quick  enough  if  this  bounder 
had  got  our  wind  —  he'd  have  caught  the  tree  trunk  aloft 


160  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

there  where  it 's  slender  and  shaken  you  to  a  fall  that 
would  have  finished  you  without  further  trouble  on  his 
part. 

"And  me,  look  at  me  for  a  beauty  of  an  intellectual 
wonder  —  knowing  blighting  well  I  can't  climb,  and  get- 
ting up  there  and  having  to  stop  just  an  easy  reach  for 
him  to  get  a  good  grip  of  me  to  pelt  you  with!  And  like 
as  not  he  'd  have  tried  it  if  he  'd  gotten  to  us  —  they  're 
cunning  enough  for  it,  my  word  for  that." 

Our  camp  that  night  was  a  tough  one,  the  worst  of 
the  entire  safari,  beside  a  swamp  that  provided  the  only 
water,  a  few  yards  above  a  big  pool  that  was  a  regular 
watering  of  the  main  herd;  but  we  lacked  energy  to  seek 
a  better. 

All  our  natives  were  ranging  the  next  day  until  mid- 
afternoon,  some  on  a  search  for  the  wounded,  others 
trying  to  locate  the  main  herd,  but  none  were  successful. 
Both  Jordan  and  myself  were  still  too  tired  and  sore  to  do 
more  than  struggle  to  the  crest  of  a  high  hill,  about  two 
miles  from  camp  and  to  the  west  of  the  Sambi,  for  a 
look  about  with  the  glasses  —  which  proved  as  fruitless 
as  did  the  work  of  our  men.  On  all  sides  of  us  almost 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  rolled  tall,  sunlit  billows  and 
dim,  shadowy  hollows  of  elephant  grass  that  may  have 
held  hundreds  of  elephant  but  to  us  showed  none. 

Far  to  the  west  across  the  russet  sea  of  browning 
grass  tops,  a  broad  belt  of  dark  green  represented  the 
dense  forest  area  where  Outram  and  I  had  made  our  debut 
in  pachyderm  society  a  month  earlier;  and  more  likely 
than  not  the  giant  trophy  that  now  lay  powerless  beside 
our  camp  was  the  same  magnificent  bull  y/e  were  stalking 
when,  all  unwitting,  we  worked  our  way  quite  into  the 


WATCHING  THE  GATHERING  VULTURES  AND  MARABOUTS 


THE  AUTHOR  AND   JOHN  ALFRED   JORDAN  IN  RONGANA  CAMP  AFTER  THE 

ELEPHANT  KILL 


IN  TALL  GRASS  TUSKERS   LOVE    161 

middle  of  his  leafy  harem  and  into  two  hours  of  rather 
unusual  anxiety. 

On  a  few  miles  to  the  west  rose  the  lofty  heights  of 
Toroni's  rocky  aerie,  and  nestling  near  the  foot  of  its 
northern  flank  lay  the  new  sleeping  sickness  boma  and 
hospital  we  had  found  Deputy  Commissioner  Northcote 
building  on  the  Oyani,  while  away  in  the  south  undulated 
the  blue  ridges  that  separated  our  "Looseandgiddy" 
camp  from  the  lower  valley  of  the  Maggori  River. 

We  returned  to  our  Sambi  camp  about  three  o'clock 
to  find  still  unfinished  the  task  of  removing  the  elephant's 
four  feet  and  cleaning  them  of  all  bone  and  flesh,  and  the 
cutting  out  of  a  four-foot  square  of  hide  from  his  ribs. 
In  fact,  the  extreme  difficulty  of  incising  the  tough  hide 
anywhere  with  ordinary  skinning  knives  was  such  as  to 
leave  it  hard  to  realize  how  Carl  Aikley,  of  the  Field 
Columbian  Museum,  and  R.  I.  Cunningham,  working 
by  themselves  with  no  better  implements,  had  succeeded 
at  all  in  completely  skinning  an  elephant  in  one  con- 
tinuous performance;  harder  still  to  credit  —  what  is 
nevertheless  the  fact  —  that  they  finished  the  work  in 
eighteen  hours. 

Immediately  upon  return  from  their  day's  scouting, 
our  Lumbwa  began  a  savage,  wolfing  feast  upon  the 
titbits  of  the  carcass  that  lasted  throughout  the  night. 
The  huge,  marrowless,  but  porous  and  fat-exuding  leg 
bones  were  soon  hacked  out  by  the  heavy  short  swords 
and  sucked  dry  of  their  sweet  oily  contents,  the  rich 
stores  of  fat  stowed  fore  and  aft  of  the  high  bony  central 
dome  of  the  skull  sacked  and  consumed,  great  hunks  of 
meat  slashed  out  and  in  a  few  minutes  gobbled  down, 
raw  hunks  of  a  size,  whole,  that  one  would  swear  must 


162  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

choke  even  the  widest  and  most  elastic  python  throat  or 
surfeit  the  emptiest  lion. 

Ivory-white  teeth,  set  in  jaws  powerful  as  a  hyena's, 
tore  and  disintegrated  the  tough,  raw  flesh  as  easily  as 
civilized  incisors  and  grinders  consume  the  most  tender 
fillet. 

And  when,  shortly  before  sunset,  an  abdominal  inci- 
sion was  made  to  reach  the  great  masses  of  fat  about  the 
kidneys,  an  opportunity  was  given  me  for  a  photograph 
never  before  taken  and  a  sight  probably  never  before  seen, 
unless  by  a  professional  elephant  hunter.  The  moment 
the  abdominal  wall  was  punctured,  high  up  on  the  ele- 
phant's side  up  out  of  the  opening  rose  an  intertwining, 
writhing  mass  of  colossal  intestines,  each  at  least  eighteen 
inches  in  diameter,  all  tightly  distended  with  the  gases 
of  dissolution  until,  beneath  the  bright  rays  of  the  declin- 
ing sun,  they  reflected  every  brilliant  and  soft  neutral 
tint  of  an  opal,  rose  up  and  up,  six  feet  or  more  above  the 
carcass,  ever  slowly  gliding  and  writhing,  as  if  one  had 
before  his  eyes  a  gigantic  Medusa  head  crowned  with  a 
mass  of  close-knotted,  tortured  python  —  a  sight  so 
weirdly  ghastly  it  by  turns  impelled  one  to  fly  from  it 
and  held  one  entranced  by  its  sinuous,  serpentine  move- 
ments and  more  than  serpent  radiance  of  brilliant  varie- 
gated color. 

Nor,  night  come  —  instantly  the  hurrying  equatorial 
sun  had  dropped,  like  a  lump  of  lead,  below  the  horizon  — 
was  more  than  the  mere  tough  edge  of  their  voracious 
animal  appetite  dulled;  for  directly  the  Lumbwa  had 
staggered  into  camp,  each  with  shoulders  laden  with  the 
last  pound  of  the  coarse-grained  red  meat  he  could  carry, 
live  coals  were  niched  from  beneath  Salem's  bubbling 


IN  TALL  GRASS  TUSKERS  LOVE     163 

pots,  fires  started,  long  sticks  cut,  and  countless  yards  of 
flesh  set  smoking,  drying,  roasting.  And  there  about 
their  little  fires  throughout  the  livelong  night  crouched  these 
gorging  Bantu  gluttons, —  creatures  risen  above  the  stone- 
age  men  that  lurk  like  rude,  hideous,  hateful  caricatures  of 
humanity  in  the  dim  dawn  of  history,  only  the  one  short 
step  gained  by  stumbling  on  the  knowledge  that  bits  of 
iron-stone  reddened  in  fire  may  be  beaten  into  blades 
trustier  to  kill  than  any  wrought  of  obsidian  or  flint. 
There  about  their  fires  they  lolled,  ever  stuffing  meat  away 
inside  them,  God  alone  knows  where,  and  yarning  of 
past  kills  of  the  Big  Ones  and  like  luxurious  feasts  that 
had  served  to  mark  the  reddest  red-letter  days  of  their 
hungering,  perpetually  hungering  lives;  for  the  African 
savage  knows  no  wrant  save  hunger  for  food  he  may  not 
always  easily  satisfy. 

The  next  morning  found  us  still  half  crippled,  Jordan 
with  his  poor  game  leg  rawer  than  ever,  I  with  arms  and 
shoulders  still  so  sore  of  my  tree  climbing  that  it  was  agony 
to  try  to  level  a  rifle.  But  move  \ve  had  to,  for  fires  started 
by  reckless  Wanderobo  and  Kisii  honey  hunters  were 
sending  up  great  smoke  columns  all  about  us  that,  unless 
we  hurried,  might  force  us  into  wide  detours  from  a  direct 
return  to  our  Rongana  camp.  Luckily  the  elephant 
tusks  had  by  that  tine  loosened  to  an  extent  that  enabled 
our  men  to  get  them  out,  after  three  hours'  sharp  work. 

About  8  A.  M.  I  started  Jordan  and  the  safari  for  the 
Rongana,  and  then  went  off  myself  with  two  natives  on 
another  four  hours'  circle  of  the  Sambi  basin  in  hope  of 
finding  some  trace  of  our  wounded,  which  it  seemed 
possible  might  be  driven  back  upon  us,  if  they  were  still 
able  to  travel,  by  the  fires. 


164  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

But  this  scout  proved  as  fruitless  as  its  predecessors, 
and  so,  shortly  after  noon,  I  climbed  the  Cabanoas  and 
began  the  descent  toward  the  Rongana. 

It  was  a  terrible  day,  the  heat  of  the  sun  heightened 
by  that  of  the  fires  we  often  had  to  skirt  closely,  the  air 
suffocating  with  smoke  and  falling  cinders  that  kept  eyes 
streaming  and  throats  parched  and  half  strangled. 

About  mid-afternoon,  in  a  forest  I  chanced  on  a  sec- 
tion of  our  safari  which  had  been  cut  off  from  the  others 
by  a  fire  that  had  swept  down  upon  them  and  cut  the 
column  in  two,  forcing  the  rear  lot  into  a  wide  circle  to  the 
south  to  escape  the  advancing  flames.  In  fact,  had  a  high 
wind  risen  that  day  we  should  never  have  won  through 
without  more  or  less  serious  casualties. 

It  was  long  after  dark  when  I  stumbled  into  the 
Rongana  camp,  black  of  the  smoke  as  any  Bantu,  returned 
to  the  supreme  luxury  of  a  chance  to  take  boots  and  clothes 
off  and  have  a  bath;  for  during  the  four  nights  of  our 
absence  the  Big  Ones, —  elephant,  rhino,  and  buffalo,  — 
were  so  thick  about  us,  and  there  was  so  much  likelihood  of 
a  stampede  through  or  a  charge  of  our  camp  by  some  of 
them,  that  we  had  not  ventured  even  to  remove  our  boots. 

For  Jordan  these  four  days  across  the  Cabanoas  were 
near  being  his  finish.  I  found  him,  arrived  a  scant  hour 
ahead  of  me,  flighty  of  a  burning  fever  and  gasping  for 
breath  from  what  seemed  to  be  an  acute  attack  of  pneu- 
monia, that  took  four  days  of  close  nursing  and  about  all 
the  quinine,  brandy,  and  mustard  our  scanty  stores 
afforded  to  knock  out  of  him. 


XI 

A   MIGHTY   SPEAR  THRUST 

WHILE  awaiting  Jordan's  recovery  from  the  illness 
brought  on  by  our  elephant  hunt  on  the  Sambi 
River,  Nabrisi,  brother  of  the  Wanderobo  chief, 
Labusoni,  and  Bele,  another  of  his  men,  came  into  my 
Rongana  camp  and  brought  me  a  lot  of  fine  honey  and 
Jordan  a  batch  of  lame  excuses  why  the  Wanderobo  camp 
had  not  joined  us  as  promised.     Summed  up,  it  was  plain 
these  shy  forest  folk  were  distrustful  of  the  stranger. 

Nabrisi  was  such  a  smiling,  gentle,  kindly  faced  soul 
that,  despite  his  black  skin,  semi-nakedness,  primitive 
arms,  and  reputation  as  a  reckless  elephant  hunter,  it  was 
hard  to  think  of  him  except  as  a  most  amiable  and  cour- 
teous old  gentleman.  Bele,  on  the  contrary,  was  an  ideal 
type  of  the  Wanderobo  elmoran,  middle-aged,  severely 
dour  of  visage,  gashed  across  the  forehead  with  the  scar  of 
a  sword  cut  deep  enough  to  lay  one's  finger  in  —  a  wound 
no  white  man  could  have  survived;  and  never  once  dur- 
ing the  week  they  were  with  us  did  I  see  the  flicker  of  a 
smile  on  his  face,  never  once  to  my  knowledge  when  he 
was  near  did  I  escape  a  continual,  suspicious  scrutiny 
of  my  every  movement  from  great  eyes  wide,  unblinking, 
and  glaring  as  those  of  a  buffalo  at  bay.  Round  the  camp 
fire  at  the  door  of  my  tent  they  lolled  all  day,  he  and 
Nabrisi,  and  beside  it  they  slept  at  night,  on  beds  primitive 
as  the  nuptial  couch  of  Adam  and  Eve.  Each  scraped 
a  shallow  saucer-shaped  area  in  the  soft  loam,  cleared  it 

165 


1 66  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

of  sticks  and  stones,  gathered  slender  branches  of  a 
broad-leaved  tree  and  stuck  the  butts  horizontally  into 
the  earth  rims  about  the  saucer  in  concentric  rings,  until 
the  centre  held  a  thick  mat  of  leaves  upon  which  each 
stretched  himself  naked,  with  feet  to  the  fire  and  monkey 
skin  cloak  rolled  up  for  a  pillow,  with  no  cover  from 
the  chill  morning  breezes  that  for  two  hours  before  dawn 
always  in  those  altitudes  made  me  glad  to  pull  up  over 
me  an  extra  pair  of  blankets. 

At  Jordan's  orders  Nabrisi  and  Bele  made  a  three 
days'  circle  through  Cabanoa  Forest  and  the  N'gararu 
Hills  for  fresh  elephant  sign,  but  on  their  return  they 
reported  the  country  afire  everywhere  and  the  elephant 
moved  west  and  north  into  the  loftier  Kisii  Highlands. 

February  20,  as  soon  as  Jordan  was  able  to  ride,  I 
marched  the  safari  twelve  miles  west  to  a  camp  on  Soiat 
Hill,  near  Mataia's  house;  and  there  Outram  joined  us 
shortly  after  our  arrival,  after  a  hard  eleven  days'  march 
to  Kericho  and  back,  with  a  great  mass  of  mail,  the  ac- 
cumulation of  the  last  eleven  weeks,  and  with  New  York 
papers  of  as  recent  date  as  January  9.  The  round  trip 
this  mail  had  cost  was  a  trifle  under  two  hundred  and 
fifty  miles,  a  longish  jaunt  to  the  post,  but  still  our  nearest. 

Nor  was  it  altogether  a  welcome  mail  that  came,  for, 
while  much  remained  undone  which  I  had  hoped  to  do 
before  leaving  Africa,  it  brought  advices  that  left  me  no 
alternative  but  to  cut  short  my  safari  and  book  for  an 
early  sailing  from  Mombasa  for  New  York.  Otherwise 
it  had  been  my  hope  to  swing  north  from  Kericho  to 
Eldama  Ravine,  down  Molo  River  to  Lake  Baringo  for 
greater  Kudu,  thence  east  down  the  Guaso  Narok  River 
past  Rumuruti  Boma,  thence  round  the  north  and  east 


A  MIGHTY  SPEAR  THRUST        167 

flanks  of  Mt.  Kenya,  and  back  through  Ft.  Hall  to 
Nairobi,  a  circle  on  which  I  should  have  been  pretty  sure 
to  get  the  two  more  elephant  to  which  I  was  entitled 
under  my  license. 

And  the  abandonment  of  the  trip  around  Kenya  be- 
came to  me  all  the  more  regrettable  when,  the  following 
evening,  porters  returned  from  a  trip  back  to  our  old 
Rongana  camp  to  fetch  up  several  loads  we  had  been  com- 
pelled to  leave  behind  (safely  walled  up,  I  had  believed, 
in  Mataia's  tall  and  stoutly  built  cattle  boma)  with  advice 
that  hyena  had  scented  out  and  stolen  two  of  my  elephant 
feet.  Since  three  of  the  porters  were  men  we  had  been 
compelled  to  chine  under  the  kiboko  a  few  days  before, 
I  did  not  believe  them,  but  fancied  they  had  thrown  away 
the  feet  out  of  revenge.  So  the  same  night  I  forced  them 
to  march  back  under  guard  of  Arab  Miner  and  Mosoni, 
two  of  the  Lumbwa  spearmen,  with  orders  to  give  them 
no  rest  until  the  feet  or  proofs  of  their  destruction  were 
found.  Late  the  next  afternoon  the  two  Lumbwa  came 
back,  spear-prodding  ahead  of  them  the  sullen  porters, 
bringing  me  a  double  handful  of  fragments  of  the  great 
horny  elephant  toe  nails,  plainly  showing  marks  of  hyena 
teeth.  The  feet  had  been  completely  cleaned  of  all  bone 
and  meat,  "cured"  by  rilling  them  with  ashes  to  absorb 
and  neutralize  the  fats,  until  nothing  remained  but  the 
hard  dry  leg  hide,  flinty  soles,  and  horny  nails;  and  yet, 
incredible  as  it  may  seem,  every  scrap  had  been  eaten 
by  these  insatiable  scavengers  except  the  fragments 
brought  me.  Most  fortunately,  however,  they  had  taken 
one  front  and  one  hind  foot  and  thus  had  spared  me  one 
of  his  superb  front  sixty-inchers. 

Noon  of  the  twenty-second  found  us  fourteen  miles 


i68  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

north  of  Soiat,  after  a  hard  six  hours'  march  toward 
Kericho  over  timberless  long-grass  country  so  steeply, 
deeply  rolling  that  every  two  or  three  miles  included  a 
seven  hundred  to  eight  hundred  sharp  ascent  and  descent. 
There  we  were  met  by  Arab  Tumo,  who  had  left  us  a  few 
days  earlier,  with  word  there  were  great  herds  of  elephant 
within  a  mile  of  his  house  and  only  four  miles  from  our 
camp,  but  in  long-grass  country  where  it  would  be  almost 
impossible  to  get  at  them.  And  no  more  had  we  gotten 
the  news  than  down  upon  our  stream-side  camp  from  the 
southwest  marched  a  big  safari  which  we  soon  learned 
was  that  of  Lady  Colville  and  her  son.  Approached, 
young  Colville  and  his  safari  leader  inquired  if  we  had 
seen  elephant,  to  which  we  diplomatically  replied  that 
we  had  men  out  hunting  them.  Then  they  told  us  they 
had  been  out  for  three  months,  first  in  the  Laikipia 
country  to  the  north  and  later  hereabouts,  but  had  seen 
no  elephant,  and  then  were  marching  for  Limirick  Plains 
in  the  eastern  Sotik  country  for  work  on  a  general  bag. 
However,  since  they  camped  a  scant  mile  beyond  us,  we 
fancied  they  were  as  foxy  as  we  were  —  had  news  of  the 
herds  Tumo  had  reported  and  were  figuring  to  strike 
them  before  we  could,  which  of  course  set  us  plotting  to 
get  in  ahead  of  them.  Toward  mid-afternoon  our  chance 
came,  when  a  heavy  grass  fire  swept  between  our  camp 
and  theirs,  its  thick  smoke  clouds  drifting  south  before  a 
strong  north  wind. 

Quickly  loading  a  few  men  with  food  and  blankets 
and  leaving  all  our  tents  standing,  we  slipped  away  in 
the  shrouding  smoke  and  got  well  across  the  first  tall 
summit  before  the  smoke  lifted.  Later  we  learned  our 
precautions  had  been  entirely  unnecessary,  for  we  were  told 


A  MIGHTY  SPEAR  THRUST        169 

by  the  Sotik  boma  chief  that  the  same  morning  the 
other  safari  had  sighted  the  main  herd,  and  had  then 
retired  because,  they  claimed,  they  saw  none  but  small 
tuskers. 

That  night  we  camped  on  a  steep  hillslope  near  Tumo's 
and  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  where  the  elephant 
had  been  feeding  earlier  in  the  day.  There  we  were 
about  midway  between  the  Sotik  and  Kisii  bomas  and 
in  the  extreme  northeast  corner  of  the  range  of  the  big 
Kisii  herd. 

It  was  an  elephant- grass  country  everywhere,  but 
even  worse  to  work  in  than  the  Sambi,  for  the  hills  were 
much  more  precipitous,  there  were  absolutely  no  trees 
to  climb  for  a  look  about,  and  every  valley  was  a  broad, 
boggy?  reedy  swamp  trampled  by  elephant  into  pit  holes 
until  nearly  impassable  to  us. 

At  dawn  we  were  off.  In  the  first  swamp  we  struck 
we  jumped  two  rhinos,  but  they  scurried  away  through 
the  reeds.  Two  hours  later,  from  an  obligingly  placed 
anthill  upon  a  tall  summit,  upon  a  lower  shoulder  of  the 
same  hill  about  a  half-mile  below  us  we  caught  a  glimpse 
of  fourteen  elephant,  while  across  a  deep  valley  and  swamp 
and  on  a  hillside  probably  two  miles  away,  appearing 
and  disappearing  brown  patches  and  glints  of  ivory 
showed  us  a  great  herd  of  anywhere  from  one  hundred  to 
two  hundred  head. 

Had  the  day  been  clear  the  sight  would  have  been 
superb,  well  worth  the  entire  trip  from  Nairobi,  but  the 
air  was  so  hazy  with  smoke  the  elephant  looked  like  dim 
spectral  shapes  rising  from  the  slope  of  a  mighty  billow 
of  a  faintly  moonlit  sea. 

Already  the  sun  was  getting  very  hot,  for  neither 


iyo  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

clouds  nor  smoke  seemed  materially  to  lessen  the  intensity 
of  the  equatorial  sun  rays  —  and  both  herds  were  on  the 
move  for  cool  quarters  for  their  midday  nap,  headed,  one 
lot  north  and  the  other  south  toward  a  broad  swamp 
that  lay  eight  hundred  feet  below  them  in  a  valley  trend- 
ing west  toward  the  Kuja. 

They  actually  seemed  a  gift,  did  those  elephant  —  or 
rather  a  chance  at  one  or  two  fine  bulls  of  the  herd  seemed 
a  certainty ;  for  while  we  could  not  follow  directly  on  the 
spoor  of  the  nearer  herd  without  giving  them  our  wind, 
a  leisurely  wide  circle  to  the  west  and  descent  to  the 
swamp,  and  a  careful  stalk  up  it  through  its  tall  rushes 
or  along  the  slopes  that  dropped  steeply  to  its  margin, 
seemed  sure  to  bring  us  to  close  range  of  the  united  herds, 
floundering  about  among  the  lily  pads  and  reeds,  shower- 
ing themselves  with  their  trunks  or  boring  into  the  dark 
green  masses  of  the  high,  dank  marsh  growths  for  shelter 
from  the  sun. 

So  off  the  anthill  we  stepped  and  down  the  precipi- 
tous hillslope  started,  heading  northwest,  the  tall,  wiry 
Lumbwa,  Arab  Tumo  the  rhino  slayer,  in  the  lead,  I 
next,  and  the  rest  trailing  along  behind.  Of  course,  the 
moment  we  descended  from  the  anthill  the  ghastly  gray 
leaves  and  stalks  of  the  tall  elephant  grass  closed  about 
each  tight  as  a  winding  sheet,  and  shut  out  view  of  every- 
thing except  the  patches  of  sky  that  now  and  then  appeared 
through  the  rustling  russet  roof  above  our  heads.  Each 
step  was  like  passing  from  one  tight-shut  chamber  to 
another,  tight-shut  as  a  sodded  grave,  for  the  gray  stalks 
were  ever  springing  up  behind  one  with  a  sinister,  ma- 
licious suddenness  and  vigor  and  with  rasping  swishes 
that  sounded  in  my  ears  like  a  hoarse,  gloating,  trucu- 


A   MIGHTY  SPEAR  THRUST        171 

lent  whisper, —  "You  are  ours,  ours,  OURS!    Forever  are 
you  ours!" 

Indeed,  the  fevered  imagination  of  the  ^worst  dying 
sinner  could  never  people  the  dusky  shades  of  Hades  with 
more  terrible  shapes  than  the  horrors  and  perils  one  knows 
must  always  be  crowding  close  about  him  while  plunged 
into  that  worst  of  all  terrestrial  infernos,  a  region  of  ele- 
phant grass.  They  are  there  all  about  you,  scores  of  the 
predatory,  with  any  of  whom  a  chance  meeting  means 
your  death  or  theirs.  At  your  very  feet  a  poisonous 
cobra  or  mamba  may  be  coiling  to  give  you  a  coup-de- 
morte;  within  reach  of  your  rifle  muzzle  a  great  python 
may  be  suppling  his  mighty  folds  for  the  toss  of  a  crush- 
ing hitch  about  your  neck;  rhino,  buffalo,  lion,  or  ele- 
phant love  and  always  haunt  such  convenient  ambush, 
and  may  at  any  instant  catch  your  wind  and  be  literally 
upon  you  before  you  have  time  to  throw  your  rifle  to 
shoulder. 

Indeed,  no  form  of  duel  to  the  death,  fought  out  in 
utter  darkness,  could  hold  more  terrors  to  try  the  stoutest 
heart  than  a  man  adrift  in  a  sea  of  elephant  grass  finds 
himself  a  prey  to. 

Nor  were  we  that  day  to  be  without  our  bit  of  expe- 
rience of  the  hostile  activities  of  its  dangerous  denizens. 

While  modest  and  refusing  to  talk  at  all  of  his  own 
exploits,  the  chief  Mataia  and  other  Lumbwa  repeatedly 
assured  me  that  no  less  than  sixty  rhino  had  fallen  to 
Arab  Tumo's  spear  thrusts,  each  killed  by  him  alone  in 
single  combat.  While  the  story  appeared  incredible, 
large  color  of  truth  was  lent  it  by  an  incident  of  the 
morning. 
.  While  about  half  way  down  from  the  summit  to  the 


172  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

swamp,  with  Arab  Tumo  marching  ahead  of  me,  and, 
although  no  more  than  six  feet  in  advance,  quite  out  of 
my  sight,  suddenly  I  heard  just  beyond  him  the  swish 
and  crashing  of  some  mighty  body,  and  jumped  forward 
to  Arab  Tumo  just  in  time  to  see  a  giant  rhino,  which  had 
been  crossing  our  line  of  march  directly  in  his  front,  start 
to  swing  for  a  charge  up  our  line,  great  head  shaking 
with  rage,  little  pig  eyes  glaring  fury. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  second,  for  when  I  reached  Tumo 
they  were  in  arm's  length  of  each  other,  he  crouched  with 
spear  shortened,  and,  in  the  very  second  of  the  rhino's 
swing  to  charge,  with  one  bound  and  mighty  thrust  he 
drove  his  great  three  foot  six  inch  spear  blade  to  entry 
behind  the  left  shoulder,  ranging  diagonally  through  the 
rhino's  vitals  towards  his  right  hip,  and  burying  it  to  the 
very  haft! 

Followed  instantly  a  shrill  scream  of  pain,  a  gush  of 
foam-flecked  blood  that  told  of  a  deadly  lung  wound,  and 
then  the  monster  wheeled  and  lurched  out  of  our  sight 
down  hill  at  right  angles  to  our  course,  Tumo's  spear 
still  transfixing  him. 

So  suddenly  sprung  and  so  fascinating  was  the  scene, 
so  like  a  single-handed  duel  of  the  old  Roman  arena 
between  two  raw  savage  monsters  of  the  African  jungle, 
biped  against  quadruped,  that  it  never  occurred  to  me  to 
shoot,  although  I  might  have  chanced  a  snapshot  over 
Tumo's  shoulder. 

And  there  Arab  Tumo  stood  quietly  smiling,  his  pulse 
apparently  unquickened  by  a  single  beat,  signing  for 
permission  to  follow  and  recover  his  spear! 

About  an  hour  later,  just  as  we  were  about  to  enter 
the  swamp,  he  rejoined  us  with  the  fragments  of  his  spear, 


A  MIGHTY  SPEAR  THRUST        173 

the  blade  broken  free  of  its  long-pointed  iron  butt,  which 
was  bent  nearly  double  by  some  wrench  in  the  ground 
the  rhino  had  contrived  to  give  it  to  free  his  vitals  of  the 
gnawing  blade!  And,  once  free  of  the  spear,  on  he  had 
gone  —  Tumo  had  not  seen  him  again. 

Of  the  elephant  we  had  heard  nothing,  and,  of  course, 
had  seen  nothing  since  leaving  the  mountain  top.  But 
if  they  had  held  their  course,  as  we  felt  sure  they  had,  we 
should  there  have  been  about  a  half-mile  below  them. 
So  we  began  a  cautious  stalk  up  swamp,  silent  as  we 
could  make  it,  for  they  might  be  moving  toward  us. 

Most  of  the  way  we  had  to  wade  along  the  edge  of 
the  swamp,  sometimes  jumping,  sometimes  slipping  into 
pot  holes  up  to  the  middle,  for  everywhere  the  Big  Ones 
had  been  trampling.  Nor  did  the  water  matter,  for  in 
elephant  grass  one  never  gets  a  breath  of  breeze  and  when 
we  had  reached  the  swamp  we  were  as  wet  as  if  we  had 
rolled  in  it.  Both  to  north  and  south  we  found  the 
swamp  lined  with  heavy  thorn  bush  that  did  not  show 
above  the  heavy  grass  tops,  but  with  stems  thick  as  one's 
wrist,  utterly  impenetrable  except  along  an  elephant 
path  or  where  occasionally  they  had  trampled  it  into  a 
tangled  springy  mattress  over  which  we  could  occasionally 
pick  our  way,  bobbing  up  and  down  as  if  on  a  spring 
board,  five  or  six  feet  above  the  ground. 

On  we  toiled  and  yet  on,  expecting  every  step  to  sight 
the  gleam  of  ivory  or  a  flapping  ear,  to  hear  a  "tummy" 
rumble  or  a  trumpet,  on,  for  three  weary  hours,  until  we 
had  thoroughly  scouted  the  swamp  to  its  head  —  only 
to  find  that  by  some  ill  chance  both  herds  had  swerved 
elsewhere,  probably  northeast;  either  that  or  they  had 
doubled  in  behind  us  as  we  descended  the  mountain. 


i74  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

It  was  absolutely  heartbreaking,  but  there  was  nothing 
to  do  but  drag  ourselves  to  the  crest  of  the  nearly  per- 
pendicular hill  that  rose  seven  or  eight  hundred  feet  to  the 
northeast  above  the  top  of  the  swamp,  in  hope  of  cutting 
their  spoor  or  sighting  them  from  the  summit. 

It  was  like  swarming  up  a  giant  Gothic  roof,  first  bat- 
tling for  a  bit  of  opening  in  the  grass  and  bushes  and  then 
grasping  grass  and  weeds  and  pulling  ourselves  up  into 
it,  —  labor  so  exhausting  and  taxing  on  our  lungs  we  were 
over  two  hours  making  the  ascent.  And,  once  come  there, 
we  soon  found  our  work  had  been  for  naught ;  neither  on 
the  summit  nor  on  the  slopes  could  we  find  an  anthill; 
nothing  could  we  see  but  the  sky  and  the  hell  of  weeds 
that  shut  us  in.  Nor  was  there  another  ounce  of  energy 
left  in  us,  for  it  was  then  at  least  an  hour  past  midday  and 
we  had  been  marching  and  stalking  since  dawn,  eight 
hours  or  more,  through  the  most  laborious  going,  I  be- 
lieve, the  entire  world  affords. 

Then  to  make  our  situation  worse,  our  water  bottles 
were  empty;  in  our  keenness  to  get  to  the  elephant  we  had 
forgotten  to  fill  them  before  leaving  the  swamp.  So,  after 
sending  three  Lumbwa  off  to  try  to  find  the  elephant  and 
two  more  to  fetch  up  our  camp  to  the  margin  of  a  swamp 
we  knew  must  lie  at  the  bottom  of  the  valley  to  the  east  of 
us,  we  cut  with  our  knives  little  chambers  among  the  grass 
roots  and  into  them  crawled,  and  there  lay  sheltered  from 
the  direct  rays  of  the  sun  for  three  hours,  until  our  Lumbwa 
returned  with  word  the  elephant  were  gathered  in  a  swamp 
three  miles  northeast  of  us,  from  which  they  might  be 
moving  back  toward  evening  past  or  across  a  big  open 
"burn"  that  lay  a  mile  below  us. 

About  5  P.  M.  we  got  down  to  this  "burn,"  and  shortly 


A  MIGHTY  SPEAR  THRUST        175 

thereafter  our  safari  reached  us  and  we  there  pitched 
camp,  among  some  anthills,  from  which  we  could  get  a 
bit  of  a  view  about.  But  nothing  did  we  see,  until,  just 
at  dusk,  our  watch  reported  two  big  bulls  about  a  thou- 
sand yards  away,  heading  straight  for  our  camp.  Too  late 
to  gain  anything  by  trying  to  go  out  after  them  in  the 
gathering  darkness,  our  fires  were  extinguished,  Outram 
stopped  in  camp,  Jordan  took  stand  two  hundred  yards 
to  the  east,  and  I  the  same  distance  west  of  camp  on  the 
chance  the  bulls  might  come  smashing  along  writhin  range. 

And  there  on  his  post  in  the  moonless,  murky  night 
and  down  among  the  soft,  gray-black  ash  of  the  newly 
burned  herbage,  each  crouched  with  ready  gun  till  near 
midnight,  when,  having  heard  nothing,  I  stumbled  into 
camp,  called  in  Jordan,  and  we  had  the  fires  rekindled  and 
rolled  up  in  our  blankets. 

Such  is  the  luck  of  the  game.  Although  they  should 
not  have  gotten  our  wind,  perhaps  they  did.  Anyway,  off 
they  had  turned,  a  scant  three  hundred  yards  from  camp, 
off  into  the  southwest,  had  those  two  bulls,  and  after  them 
had  softly  trailed  the  mighty  herd,  WTC  soon  the  next  morn- 
ing learned,  two  hundred  or  more  strong.  And  along  the 
broad  track  they  had  trampled  we  followed  until,  near 
noon,  come  to  a  great  "burn"  across  which  we  could  see 
for  five  or  six  miles,  I  realized  they  were  settled  down  to 
a  longer  trek  than  I  had  time  left  to  follow  them  on,  for 
the  next  day  at  the  latest  I  must  press  forward  on  the 
march  through  Kericho  Boma  to  Lumbwa  Station  on  the 
Uganda  Railway. 

Thus  and  there,  in  the  Kisii  Highlands,  virtually  ended 
my  safari  and  shooting  "In  Closed  Territory." 

A  hard  six  days'  march  got  us  across  the  Sessi  and 


iy6  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

Isogu  Rivers,  two  mountain  torrents  that  within  a  fort- 
night the  "big  rains"  would  make  impassable,  by  any 
means,  for  weeks,  and  into  Lumbwa  Station.  It  was 
a  toilsome  week  over  steep,  rolling,  lofty  mountain  con- 
tours, relieved  only  by  a  most  delightful  night  at  Kericho 
Boma,  where,  in  my  host  at  a  most  capital  dinner,  Deputy 
Commissioner  L.  A.  F.  Jones,  I  met  a  man  who  knew  so 
many  of  my  home  club  mates  it  almost  seemed  as  if  I 
were  dining  before  an  open  window  overlooking  Madison 
Square  of  a  softly  sibilant  May  night  when  the  birds  are 
love-making  in  the  scant  shelter  of  the  young  leaves.  In 
stalwart  Angus  Madden,  commanding  the  Boma  Askaris, 
I  found  a  ripping  Irishman  with  a  heart  his  big  body 
must  have  vast  trouble  holding  and  a  brogue  almost  as 
rich  as  the  wit  it  adorns;  and  in  Bryan  Brooke  I  came  to 
know  a  giant,  brawny  young  Scot,  in  whom  generations 
of  the  gentlest  breeding  have  contrived  to  engraft  the 
simpatia  and  imagination  of  a  poet  upon  a  warring,  ad- 
venturous spirit  that  no  influences  can  serve  to  long  hold 
away  from  the  wilds. 

Then  came  Lumbwa  —  the  railway  —  after  a  total 
safari  trek,  what  with  marching  and  shooting,  that  cov- 
ered something  over  twelve  hundred  miles;  the  entrain- 
ing of  my  trophies  and  myself  for  Nairobi,  and  the  leav- 
ing dear  old  Outram  (quite  the  best  camp  mate  of  all  the 
many  I  have  known,  and  that 's  saying  a  bit,  for  the 
trials  and  vicissitudes  of  camp  life  soon  show  dissonant  any 
human  chords  not  atuned  true)  to  march  the  safari 
back  to  Juja. 


XII 
POTTING  A  PYTHON* 

FOR  the  American  press  in  general,  Theodore  Roose- 
velt's shooting  trip  in  East  Africa  has  served 
chiefly  as  a  convenient  subject  of  more  or  less 
broad  jest.  Few  at  home  outside  the  circle  of  his  own 
family  and  closer  friends  have  taken  it  seriously,  except 
the  more  zealous  members  of  the  Society  for  the  Pre- 
vention of  Cruelty  to  Animals,  who,  to  the  number  of 
some  thousands,  have  joined  in  petitioning  him  to  look 
but  not  to  touch  —  to  abstain  from  slaughter  of  their 
cherished  (and  usually  rightly  enough  cherished)  wards. 
Not  one  in  a  million  has  the  faintest  conception  of  what 
his  undertaking  really  means  or  of  the  actual  perils  in- 
separable from  it. 

Compared  to  a  wounded  Cape  buffalo,  lion,  leopard, 
rhino,  or  elephant,  a  stricken  moose  or  even  a  maddened 
grizzly  is  child's  play.  Of  infinitely  stronger  vitality, 
harder  to  kill,  and  possessed  of  an  infernal  cunning  and  a 
speed  of  attack  and  persistence  in  pursuit,  are  these  African 
Big  Ones,  that  make  them  far  and  away  the  most  dan- 
gerous game  in  the  world,  with  the  single  exception  of 
the  Asiatic  tiger. 

From  the  hour  Mr.  Roosevelt  starts  on  safari  and  goes 
under  canvas  on  the  Kapiti  Plains  until,  in  his  descent 
of  the  Nile,  he  has  passed  the  temptation  of  a  final  run  up 

*  Written  aboard  5.  S.  Melbourne  of  the  Cie  Mesageries  Maritimes,  cleared 
from. Mombasa,  B.  E.  A.,  March  29,  1909,  for  Marseilles. 

177 


178  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

the  Sobat  River,  he  literally  carries  his  life  in  his  hands, 
a  pawn  easy  of  annexation  to  any  of  the  many  predatory 
types  of  beasts  and  reptiles  that  swarm  in  jungle  and  in 
plain. 

Nor  is  it  his  wounded  he  alone  has  to  be  alert  for. 
The  struggle  for  existence  in  the  often  densely  over- 
crowded animal  kingdom  of  Central  Africa  has  taught 
many  types  the  strategical  value  of  instant  attack  the 
moment  an  enemy  is  sighted  —  and  all  are  their  enemies 
they  fancy  they  can  make  their  prey. 

Rarely  does  a  lone  buffalo  bull  lose  a  chance  at  a  man, 
and  he  makes  a  straight,  furious  charge  if  he  thinks  he  is 
sighted,  or,  if  unseen,  a  wide  detour  to  close  ambush  along 
one's  path  and  a  dash  at  short  range  it  is  extremely  dif- 
ficult to  stop  or  escape. 

Most  often  the  rhino  charges  the  moment  he  scents  a 
man,  usually,  I  believe,  from  primary  motives  of  curi- 
osity, in  fact  charges  about  any  and  every  thing  except 
elephant,  from  which  he  flies  in  mortal  fear;  but  it  is  none 
the  less  necessary  to  do  some  straight  shooting  or  to  execute 
a  series  of  amazingly  quick  sidesteps. 

At  any  moment  a  man  traversing  long  grass  or  bush 
may  come  upon  a  lioness  and  cubs,  at  no  more  than  arm's 
length,  and  lucky  indeed  he  if  she  is  not  instantly  upon 
him. 

Any  night  his  tent  may  be  invaded  by  a  hungry  man- 
eater  who  has  stolen  past  drowsing  Askari  camp  sentries, 
and  his  spine  be  crushed  under  its  favorite  neck  grip 
before  even  the  approach  of  peril  is  suspected  —  it  has 
happened  often  enough  in  the  past  and  often  will  so  happen 
again. 

Out  of  any  bunch  of  longish  grass  the  wide-hooded 


POTTING  A   PYTHON  179 

head  of  a  black  (blue-black)  cobra  may  rise  threatening 
him  —  and  that's  no  good  place  to  stay;  or  a  sluggish 
puff  adder  may  lazily  await  until  he  is  in  easy  reach  of  its 
favorite  backward  stroke;  or  a  python  may  toss  a  half- 
hitch  of  its  giant  coils  his  way  that  few  get  free  of  once 
it  has  enfolded  them. 

And  then  there  are  the  fevers  so  many  fall  victim  to, 
from  plain  malarial  to  "tick  fever"  (spirillum)  and  " black 
water,"  that  one  is  often  years  getting  wholly  rid  of — where 
they  don't  begin  by  ridding  the  earth  of  him, —  and  the 
awful  spectre  of  the  sleeping  sickness  that  is  now  claiming 
white  victims  with  growing  frequency. 

Overdrawn?  Exaggerations,  these?  No;  not  by  a 
hair's  breadth;  just  types  of  common  incident  of  the  sort 
that,  sooner  or  later,  are  reasonably  certain  to  be  handed, 
in  a  more  or  less  mixed  job  lot,  to  invaders  of  the  open 
veldt  and  bush  of  Central  Africa. 

It  is  a  country  and  a  life  in  which  a  man  untrained  in 
taking  care  of  himself  against  any  and  all  comers,  un- 
inured  to  confronting  deadly  peril  with  steady  nerves, 
is  sure  to  have  more  frights  than  fun. 

Indeed,  any  man  who  is  not  a  quick,  cool-headed,  and 
accurate  rifle  shot  is  a  fool  to  go  after  African  big  game. 
To  be  sure  not  a  few  such  dilettanti  sportsmen  have  so 
gone,  and  have  returned  not  only  unscathed  but  with 
handsome  bags  of  trophies;  but  alike  for  their  own  per- 
sonal safety  and  for  the  major  part  of  their  fine  collections 
of  big  game  specimens  they  remain  indebted  to  the 
straight  shooting  of  one  or  another  of  the  splendid  little 
group  of  professional  safari  leaders,  highly  trained  expert 
hunters,  like  Cunninghame,  Will  Judd,  or  Tarlton.  The 
two  former  men  for  years  made  their  rifles  win  them 


i8o  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

handsome  tribute  in  ivory  and  in  skins,  who,  accus- 
tomed daily  to  stake  their  lives  upon  the  accuracy  of 
their  aim,  one  might  fancy  possessed  of  iron  nerves 
capable  of  meeting  any  situation  without  a  materially 
quickened  heart-heat.  But  the  fact  is  they  know  the 
game  so  well  they  are  ever  keenly  alive  to  its  hazards. 
Within  ten  yards  of  a  wounded  rhino  bull  in  thick  bush, 
I  have  myself  seen  Will  Judd's  cheeks  go  livid  white  as 
the  palor  of  death,  but  that  it  was  a  fighting  palor  his 
blazing,  red-brown  eyes  and  gripping  jaws  left  no  doubt 
of,  —  palor  come  of  every  nerve  and  muscle  held  under 
such  high  tension  for  instant  action  that  the  veins  were 
made  to  pour  their  ruby  blood  back  into  deep  arterial 
streams. 

And  Theodore  Roosevelt  himself  knows  so  well  what 
he  is  going  out  against  —  must  so  know  it  as  an  intimate 
of  Sir  Harry  Johnston,  F.  C.  Selous,  and  others  justly 
famous  for  the  last  quarter-century  for  their  work  and 
sport  in  Central  Africa  —  that  the  American  public  can 
be  quite  sure  he  goes  from  a  sheer  love  and  lust  of  bat- 
tling that  even  the  perpetual  bitter  contests  against  almost 
overwhelming  odds  that  in  history  will  serve  to  most 
strongly  mark  and  distinguish  his  administration  of  the 
nation's  affairs,  has  left  unsatisfied. 

Seven  of  the  last  ten  months  it  has  been  my  privilege 
to  pass  in  Central  Africa  I  have  spent  on  safari  in  British 
and  German  East  Africa  and  in  Uganda,  shooting.  In 
that  time  I  have  covered  most  of  the  country  Mr.  Roose- 
velt will  shoot  over,  excepting  Mount  Kenya  and  the 
sections  of  his  homebound  journey  between  the  Victoria 
Nyanza  port  of  Entebbe  and  the  Nile  port  of  Gondokoro, 


POTTING  A   PYTHON  181 

and  much  of  the  "closed  territory"  along  the  German 
border  which  he  is  not  likely  to  visit. 

As  guest  of  Wm.  Northrup  McMillan,  who  will  be  the 
principal  host  of  Mr.  Roosevelt  during  his  stay  in  Africa, 
it  has  been  my  very  great  privilege  to  have  at  my  com- 
mand the  services  of  his  highly  trained  staff  of  Somali 
shikaris,  cooks,  syces,  and  mess  boys,  men  who  have  been 
with  Mr.  McMillan  six  to  eight  years,  on  all  his  expedi- 
tions through  Abyssinia,  along  the  Blue  Nile  and  the 
Sobat  and  in  Somaliland,  and  all  of  whom  have  been 
placed  at  the  disposal  of  Mr.  Roosevelt. 

While  doubtless  in  time  an  equally  able  staff  might  be 
assembled,  no  other  such  capable,  organized  group  of  native 
hunters  and  camp  servants  exists  in  Africa  to-day.  And 
warrior  bred  are  they  all,  even  down  to  the  mess  "boys," 
men  trained  in  their  youth  on  the  sandy,  arid  plains  of 
Ogadan,  to  run  elephant  on  ponies  and  hamstring  them 
with  their  swords,  and  to  receive  charging  lion  on  their 
spears;  fanatic  Mohammedans,  blood  brothers  to  the 
Mahdist  swordsmen  who  fell  in  windrows  under  the 
machine-gun  fire  of  the  British  square  at  Omdurman,  and 
kinsmen  of  the  men  who  for  eight  years  have  held  the 
frontier  of  British  authority  and  influence  in  Somaliland 
against  the  Mad  Mullah's  still  more  fanatical  raiding 
hordes, —  the  Mullah  who  now  is  giving  Britain  the  most 
serious  native  war  problem  she  has  had  to  confront  since 
the  Mahdi's  downfall. 

Regal  Wassama,  the  chef  —  a  chef  Sherry  would  be 
glad  to  own  —  is  a  veteran  bearing  the  scars  of  three 
Soudan  campaigns. 

Djama  Aout,  the  head  shikari  (gun  bearer)  is  the  man 


1 82  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

who  thrust  a  pistol  down  the  throat  of  a  wounded  lion,  to 
save  the  life  of  Charles  Bulpett,  who  lay  beneath  the  lion, 
and  there  held  the  pistol  till  he  had  fired  its  six  loads,  while, 
meantime,  the  lion  was  crunching  his  arm. 

Hassan  Yusuf,  the  second  shikari,  was  a  sergeant  of 
Italian  horse  at  the  battle  of  Adowa,  and  is  as  steady  a 
man  as  one  could  ask  to  have  behind  him  in  any  trouble. 

Awala  Nuer,  the  third  shikari,  gets  a  bit  excited  in 
the  presence  of  big  game  and  sometimes  does  the  wrong 
thing,  but  never  learned  to  run  from  anything. 

Hadji  Ali,  the  headman,  and  Abullahi,  Adam  Rob- 
ley,  Osman,  Derria,  and  Adam  Elmy,  and  the  matchless 
Swahili,  Salem  bin  Juma,  are  men  who  can  make  safari 
life  as  comfortable  and  even  luxurious  for  Mr.  Roosevelt 
as  ever  he  found  the  White  House  —  if  he  finally  elects  to 
take  them. 

But,  while  I  understand  he  has  accepted  the  offer  of 
their  services,  I  know  that  his  chosen  safari  leader,  R.  J. 
Cunninghame,  objects  strongly  to  the  use  of  Somalis, 
for  so  he  told  me  at  dinner  the  night  before  I  left  Nairobi. 
In  their  stead,  even  as  gun  bearers,  he  prefers  to  use 
Swahilis,  who,  when  they  do  wrong,  may  be  given  the 
only  corrective  that  has  the  slightest  useful  effect  with  an 
African  native,  viz.,  anywhere  from  ten  to  twenty-five 
strokes  across  the  buttocks  with  the  kiboko,  a  flexible 
but  stiff,  straight  whip  four  or  five  feet  long  and  a  half- 
inch  thick  in  the  middle,  cut  out  of  hippo  or  rhino  hide, 
that,  when  it  does  not  draw  blood,  raises  welts  double  its 
own  diameter. 

The  kiboko,  or  even  a  blow  or  kick,  no  Somali  will 
stand;  any  man  who  so  handles  them  is  pretty  certain 


POTTING  A  PYTHON  183 

to  find  a  knife  sticking  in  his  ribs,  a  little  sooner  or  latter, 
unless  he  has  established  extraordinary  authority  and 
influence  over  them  as  a  master  they  both  respect  and 
fear,  and  even  then  he  is  none  too  safe. 

It 's  a  whole  lot  of  diplomacy  one  needs  to  success- 
fully and  safely  handle  Somalis,  and  I  believe  Cunning- 
hame  is  quite  right  that  they  are  a  disturbing  element  in 
any  safari  under  any  man  less  absolutely  their  master 
than  Mr.  McMillan.  Personally  I  thoroughly  liked  them, 
and,  thanks  to  the  fact  that  Mr.  McMillan  had  tempo- 
rarily transferred  to  me  the  mantle  of  his  authority  of  every 
sort  over  them,  with  right  of  punishment  or  dismissal,  had 
comparatively  little  trouble  with  them.  Once  I  just  had 
to  smash  one  of  the  shikaris  in  the  nose  for  handing  me 
one  rifle  and  passing  me  the  cartridges  of  another  of 
different  calibre  in  rather  a  tight  corner  —  but  he  only 
drew  himself  up  and  gravely  said:  "You  are  my  bwana 
(master)  and  my  father;  good!"  Just  how  "good"  I 
did  not  feel  any  too  safe  of,  however,  until  my  train  was 
pulling  out  of  Nairobi. 

Approve  it  though  he  of  course  will  not,  Mr.  Roosevelt 
will  have  to  close  his  eyes  or  accustom  himself  to  occasional 
severe  floggings  of  the  wapagazi  (porters),  for  without 
it  no  safari  could  he  held  together  a  fortnight ;  discipline 
would  soon  disappear  and  that  quickly  be  followed  by 
open  revolt  or  desertion.  To  the  lazy  porter  a  flogging 
merely  serves  as  a  temporary  spur  to  better  work,  but, 
oddly,  the  insolent  and  rebellious  are  by  it  almost  in- 
variably transformed  into  the  most  respectful,  zealous, 
and  efficient  men  of  your  command.  Nor  as  a  rule  do  any 
of  the  East  African  tribesmen  who  serve  as  porters  bear 


1 84  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

a  grudge  for  a  flogging  —  they  just  take  it  as  a  matter  of 
course,  accustomed  as  they  have  been  to  receive  far  worse 
in  the  way  of  discipline  at  the  hands  of  their  own  chiefs. 

Indeed,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  black  is  of  a 
far  coarser  fibre  than  the  white  man,  and,  therefore, 
endures  and  recovers  from  punishment  and  wounds  no 
white  man  could  survive. 

Ordered  to  chine  (lie  prone  upon  his  face),  down  he 
goes  without  a  murmur,  so  lies,  unheld  and  uncomplain- 
ing, until  the  flogging  is  finished,  and  then  often  springs  to 
his  feet,  draws  himself  up  and  salutes  his  bwana,  with  a 
smile. 

In  the  matter  of  safari  leader,  Mr.  Roosevelt  has 
been  well  advised.  Other  African  hunters  there  are,  per- 
haps, in  many  ways  as  capable  as  Mr.  R.  J.  Cunninghame ; 
a  few,  but  none  are  quite  his  equal.  A  man  of  broad 
education  and  a  close  student  of  natural  history,  through- 
out his  seventeen  years  in  the  open  veldt  and  bush  veldt, 
the  rifle  his  exclusive  trade  and  capital,  the  elephant  has 
always  meant  more  to  him  than  ivory  and  buck  more  than 
meat  and  skins.  All  the  time  he  has  been  studying,  until 
to-day  he  possesses  a  more  comprehensive  and  accurate 
knowledge  of  African  game,  big  and  little,  the  local  habi- 
tat and  habits  of  each  species,  than  any  man  living,  with 
the  single  possible  exception  of  F.  C.  Selous. 

Now  about  forty  years  of  age,  full-bearded  and  deep- 
wrinkled  of  face  as  an  Arab,  wrinkles  all  soon  get  who 
long  dwell  in  the  shimmering  glare  of  the  equatorial 
sun,  Mr.  Cunninghame's  short  stature  and  otherwise 
slender  frame  are  burdened  with  a  pair  of  shoulders  so 
massive  in  depth  and  breadth  as  to  incline  any  one  to  feel 
sorry  for  his  legs  who  does  not  know  how  tirelessly  they 


POTTING  A   PYTHON  185 

carry  him  from  dawn  to  dark  through  the  heaviest  going 
in  elephant  grass  or  bush. 

Absolutely  in  his  prime,  both  in  experience  and 
strength,  if  the  organization  and  routing  of  the  safari 
are  left  exclusively  to  Cunninghame,  it  is  safe  to  say  Mr. 
Roosevelt  will  return  with  such  a  bag  as  few,  if  any,  have 
ever  equalled;  if  there  is  much  interference,  he,  easily 
enough,  may  not  return  with  such  a  bag,  for  even  with 
species  that  are  in  certain  sections  absolutely  abundant, 
it  is  often  hard  to  find  them  and  harder  still  to  locate, 
stalk,  and  kill  individual  fine  specimens. 

On  March  18  Cunninghame  and  I  lunched  and  dined 
together  in  Nairobi.  He  then  told  me  he  was  still  unable 
to  make  any  definite  plans  as  to  the  routing  of  the  safari. 
He  had  a  tall  stack  of  letters  from  the  White  House,  each 
new  one  conflicting  in  one  feature  or  another  with  the 
advices  contained  in  its  predecessor  —  obviously  the  re- 
sult of  the  mass  of  suggestions  and  advice  sought  from  or 
volunteered  by  men  who  had  shot  in  Africa  and  were 
presumed  to  know  the  game,  and  all  of  whom,  naturally 
enough,  held  more  or  less  differing  views. 

About  all  then  clear  to  him  was  that  Mr.  Roosevelt 
would  arrive  in  Mombasa  April  22  on  the  Admiral  of 
the  German  East  African  Line,  accompanied  by  his 
son,  Kermit,  by  F.  C.  Selous,  who  was  to  join  him  at 
Naples,  and  by  three  representatives  of  the  Smithsonian 
Institution. 

This  meant  a  party  of  seven  white  men,  including 
himself,  and  was  giving  Cunninghame  no  little  concern, 
as  most  of  the  best  shooting  is  in  remote  sections  where  no 
food  is  obtainable,  even  for  one's  porters,  other  than  meat, 
and  Swahili  porters  —  the  best  obtainable  and  the  sort 


1 86  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

engaged  by  Cunninghame  —  are  Mohammedans  who  will 
eat  no  meat  not  properly  halaled,  the  throat  cut  by  one  of 
their  own  faith  before  the  beast  is  dead.  Thus  a  party  of 
more  than  two  or  three  men  makes  a  big,  unwieldy  cara- 
van, naturally  difficult  to  handle,  and  often  desperately 
hard  to  provide  for. 

The  last  mail,  however,  brought  him  advice  that  the 
ex- President  and  his  son  would  not  come  directly  through 
to  Nairobi,  but  would  leave  the  Uganda  Railway  at 
Kapiti  Plains,  two  hundred  and  eighty-eight  miles  from 
Mombasa  and  thirty-nine  miles  short  of  Nairobi,  the 
nearest  station  to  Sir  Alfred  Pease's  Kilima  Theki  Farm, 
where  he  intended  stopping  for  a  fortnight  for  lion,  after 
which  he  purposed  trekking  north  twenty-five  miles  across 
the  Athi  Plains,  to  Mr.  McMillan's  Juja  Farm  for  a  stay 
of  two  or  three  weeks.  In  the  meantime,  Cunninghame 
was  instructed,  he  would  be  expected  to  take  the  three 
Smithsonian  scientists  on  a  short  safari,  wherever  they 
could  best  get  busy  accumulating  specimens  of  the  smaller 
mammals  and  birds.  The  Juja  visit  finished,  then  the 
party  was  to  be  reunited  and  the  big  safari  start  —  in 
such  direction  as  might  be  later  agreed  on. 

"And  it 's  a  jolly  heavy  load  that  letter  takes  off  my 
mind,"  Cunninghame  commented. 

"Why?"  I  asked. 

"Why?"  he  answered;  "just  because  from  the  first  I 
have  by  no  means  enjoyed  the  gravity  of  the  responsibility 
I  must  assume  in  taking  a  man  of  Mr.  Roosevelt's  high 
position  out  after  lion.  Indeed,  I  have  enjoyed  it  less 
since  he  wrote  me  that  he  is  a  bad  shot  —  '  useless  with  a 
shotgun  and  rusty  with  a  rifle '  —  though  this  statement, 
I  fancy,  from  all  I  have  heard  of  his  fine  work  in  your  own 


A  FEW  FLIES  ON  THEM  (LOITA  MASAI) 


POTTING  A   PYTHON  187 

Far  West,  will  turn  out  to  be  overcolored  by  modesty. 
But  you  well  know  a  charging  lion  does  n't  give  a  man 
much  time  —  nothing  but  a  mortal  brain  shot  can  be 
sure  of  stopping  him  —  and  I  myself  can  miss  a  shot  at 
times,  like  anybody  else.  So  if  he  gets  his  lion  over  about 
Theki  —  and  surely  at  that  season  the  Hills  will  be  able  to 
show  him  lion  there  —  leaving  me  free  to  give  lion  the 
go-by  and  proceed  with  the  general  bag,  it 's  pleased  as 
Punch  I'll  be." 

"But  don't  you  consider  elephant  quite  as  dangerous 
as  lion?"  I  asked. 

"Far  more  dangerous,"  he  replied,  "under  certain 
conditions;  less  in  others.  But  you  don't  suppose  I'd 
be  infernal  fool  enough  to  take  Mr.  Roosevelt  into  the 
long  elephant  grass  and  dense  forest  of  the  Kisii  country 
where  you  got  your  big  eleven-footer,  do  you?  There 
it 's  so  thick  a  man 's  just  got  to  go  it  alone,  win  or  lose. 
None  of  that  sort  of  country  for  me  where  I've  got  a  life 
like  his  on  my  hands.  Never!  I'll  take  him  where  he 
can  shoot  his  elephant  like  a  gentleman,  in  open  forest 
where  one  can  see  what 's  about  him  and  where,  if  any- 
thing goes  wrong,  one  can  lend  a  bit  of  help.  That 's 
the  sort  of  place  he'll  get  his  elephant  in. 

"Where?  Oh,  probably  on  the  slopes  of  Mount 
Kenya,  when,  during  the  rains,  the  elephant  have  worked 
down  out  of  the  dense  bamboo  forest  of  the  higher  alti- 
tudes into  open  wood,  and  where  they  stay  till  the  heat  of 
the  dry  season  drives  them  back  up  into  the  bamboos." 

Returned  to  Juja  early  in  March  from  three  months 
on  safari  west  along  the  German  border  and  back 
through  the  Kavirondo,  Kisii,  Sotik,  and  Lumbwa  coun- 
tries, I  had  finished  a  bag  that  included  all  the  specially 


1 88  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

desirable  species  on  the  Big  Game  License  except  lion 
and  bongo.  With  my  passage  home  booked  for  March 
28,  no  chance  remained  for  a  final  try  for  either  of 
these  lacking  treasures,  except  lion.  But  for  them  there 
was  yet  a  possibility. 

Lion  shift  range  a  lot,  following  the  game.  During 
the  thirty  days  between  June  and  October  that  I  had 
occupied  exclusively  (but  unsuccessfully)  in  hunting  lion 
along  the  Athi,  the  Ruwero,  and  the  N'durugo,  the  three 
boundary  rivers  of  the  Juja  estate,  lion  were  as  a  rule 
heard  about  the  camps  every  night,  though  not  as  thick 
as  usual.  But  in  December  they  had  again  drifted  back 
in  large  numbers,  and  throughout  the  winter  were  seen 
almost  daily  by  one  or  another  of  the  Juja  employees. 
On  New  Year's  Day,  William  Marlow,  the  superintendent 
of  Mr.  McMillan's  Long  Juju  Farm  on  the  N'durugo,  four 
miles  from  Juja,  killed  a  superb  big  black-mane,  almost 
a  record  in  those  parts,  within  a  mile  of  his  house;  and  a 
month  later  John  Destro,  the  Juja  storekeeper,  killed  a 
fine  lioness  a  half-mile  below  the  same  house,  —  first 
sighted  and  shot  her  in  thick  thorn  at  scant  ten  feet 
distance,  luckily  placing  a  mortal  shot  that  dropped  her 
in  her  tracks. 

Then  in  February  Mr.  George,  a  guest  of  our  Donya 
Sabuk  neighbors  Penton  and  Bunbury,  a  young  man  of 
but  comparatively  little  field  experience,  with  only  three 
days  of  his  stay  remaining,  camped  down  near  the  Caves 
of  a  Hundred  Lion  on  the  Athi,  three  miles  from  Juja. 
The  second  evening,  sitting  under  cover  atop  of  the  cliffs 
whose  base  and  crest  are  honeycombed  with  openings 
to  caves  the  lions  haunt  when  hunting  thereabouts,  he  had 
the  unforgivable  luck  to  sight  six  lion  stalking  back  to 


POTTING  A  PYTHON  189 

their  bed  chambers,  and  to  kill  four  of  the  six,  precisely 
where  I  had  spent  a  whole  fortnight  and  several  sleepless 
nights  trying,  vainly,  to  sight  one.  Such  is  the  luck  of  the 
game. 

Even  ladies  there  could  then  sight  lion,  for  a  little 
later  in  February  Miss  Kipp,  a  guest  of  Miss  Lucas  of 
Donya  Sabuk  (whose  brother  was  killed  by  a  lion  on  the 
Athi  three  years  before),  while  riding  from  Juja  to  the 
Lucas  farm  with  only  one  native  spearman  as  attendant, 
was  followed  half  a  mile  by  a  big  lioness. 

So,  encouraged  by  these  stories  of  recent  experiences, 
the  moment  I  got  back  I  started  out  and  scattered  Masai 
scouts  in  all  directions  —  but  never  a  bit  of  fresh  sign 
could  they  find;  apparently  the  lion  had  trekked  away. 

Then  on  the  tenth,  Captain  A.  B.  Duirs,  the  manager 
of  Juja,  and  I  went  out  on  a  four  days'  circle  of  Komo 
Rock  and  Ostrich  Hill  to  the  east  of  the  Athi,  but  while 
the  trip  yielded  me  a  superb  eland  bull,  and  also  a  great 
water  python  seventeen  feet,  four  inches  long,  killed  in 
short  reeds  about  a  small  water-hole  four  miles  from  the 
river,  no  lion  did  we  find. 

The  photographs  of  the  eland,  of  the  python,  and  of 
the  big  Boer  gharri  used  on  short  safari  about  Juja  give 
some  idea  of  the  vast  and  comparatively  level  stretches  of 
the  Athi  Plains,  where  Mr.  Roosevelt  will  find  many  sorts 
of  game  as  thick  as  he  ever  saw  cattle  on  the  most  over- 
crowded range  —  hartebeeste,  zebra,  Granti  and  Thomp- 
soni  (gazelle),  impala,  water  buck,  reed  buck,  giraffe, 
ostrich,  bush  buck,  duyker,  dik-dik,  wart-hog,  hyena; 
while  the  deep  pools  of  its  rivers  are  full  of  hippo  and 
crocodiles  and  the  thorn  thickets  and  cliffs  lining  the 
streams  are  always  full  of  monkeys,  from  little  blue  chaps 


1 90  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

no  bigger  than  kittens  up  to  great  man  apes  nearly  four 
feet  tall.  There,  too,  among  the  thorns  and  rocks  are 
favorite  lurking  places  for  lion  and  leopard,  as  offering 
convenient  ambush  for  a  short  dash  on  buck  stringing 
down  to  water;  and  seven  miles  west  on  Kamiti  Farm, 
whose  shooting  will  be  placed  at  Mr.  Roosevelt's  disposal 
by  its  owner,  Mr.  Hugh  H.  Heatley,  the  papyrus  swamps 
along  the  Kamiti  are  so  full  of  buffalo  that  every  few 
days  Heatley's  Boer  farmer,  Hammond,  has  to  sprint 
for  his  life  from  his  ploughing  to  his  house,  and  the 
neighbors  are  predicting  it  is  not  likely  to  be  long  before 
the  buffalo  get  him. 

Notwithstanding  the  abundance  of  the  game  on  the 
Athi  Plains,  I  fancy  Mr.  Roosevelt  will  find  it  rather  the 
most  difficult  shooting  he  will  have  out  here,  for  seldom 
does  one  get  a  shot  at  buck  there  —  at  any  he  specially 
wants  —  under  three  hundred  to  five  hundred  yards. 
Often  for  miles  the  plain  offers  no  more  cover  than  a 
billiard  table.  As  one  advances  the  vast  herds  part, 
moving  ahead  to  right  and  left,  frequently  in  such  dense 
mass  it  looks  as  if  the  entire  plain  itself  had  gone  adrift. 
Sometimes  rolling  ground  or  bits  of  bush  offer  possible 
stalking  on  a  fine  specimen  you  have  picked,  but  rarely 
or  never  when  there  are  not  scores  or  hundreds  of  other 
buck  near  from  which  you  can't  hide  yourself  and  which 
are  always  off  and  passing  the  alarm  to  your  specimen 
buck  before  you  are  within  easy  range. 

For  instance,  the  getting  of  my  eland  bull  was  a 
typical  incident.  He  was  one  of  twelve,  dozing  com- 
fortably, some  lying  and  some  standing,  midway  of  a  low, 
smooth  hillslope.  No  other  buck  were  at  the  time  within 
a  half-mile  of  the  eland.  To  get  the  wind,  I  had  to  circle 


KOXGOXI  (HARTEBEESTE)  BULL,  THE  AUTHOR,  HASSAX  YUSEF,  AND  THE 
POXIES  WALLEYE  AXD  Loxc.  TOM 

GRAXTI  GAZELLE 


ELEVEN  FOOT  EIGHT  INCH  LION  KILLED  BY  W.  MARLOW  ON  THE   KOMO 

WATER  PYTHON,  SEVENTEEN   FEET  FOUR  INCHES    LONG,  KILLED  NEAR  JUJA 

FARM 


POTTING  A  PYTHON  191 

far  south  of  them,  and  got  by  without  rousing  them. 
But  on  my  return  toward  them,  while  still  a  fourth  of  a 
mile  from  them,  Grant  and  Tommy  bounding  about 
ahead  of  me  passed  them  the  tip  of  coming  trouble,  so 
that  when  I  got  to  the  hillcrest  it  was  to  see  my  eland  a 
half-mile  below  me,  moving  north  with  a  mass  of  other 
game. 

Altogether  I  was  four  hours  playing  about  those  eland, 
trying  for  a  possible  shot  at  the  big  bull  of  the  herd  — 
followed  them  five  miles  to  the  eastern  foot  of  Donya 
Sabuk,  where,  late  in  the  afternoon,  I  had  to  content 
myself  with  a  shot  at  seven  hundred  yards  that,  most 
luckily,  gave  him  a  bad  wound  in  the  hind  quarter  that 
enabled  Duirs  to  run  him  on  Long  Tom  and  cut  and  turn 
him  from  the  herd  within  easy  range  of  me. 

The  accompanying  photographs,  by  the  way,  show 
Djama  Aout  and  Hassan  Yusef,  the  two  Somali  shikaris 
who  will  serve  Mr.  Roosevelt  while  he  is  shooting  about 
Juja  —  and  later  on  his  safari,  if  he  overrides  Mr. 
Cunninghame's  prejudice  against  them  —  Djama  holding 
the  python's  head,  Hassan  his  tail.  They  also  show 
Long  Tom  and  Walleye,  the  two  best  Juja  shooting 
ponies,  one  or  both  of  which  will  carry  Mr.  Roosevelt. 
Walleye,  the  smaller  of  the  two,  a  Somali  pony,  stands 
still  as  a  statue  for  a  shot  from  the  saddle,  and  is  probably 
the  best  lion  pony  in  British  East  Africa.  Long  Tom,  an 
East  Indian  country  bred,  is  less  tractable  but  faster. 

His  eland  Mr.  Roosevelt  will  only  get  by  accepting  a 
special  license  from  the  Governor,  which,  of  course,  will 
be  given  him  if  he  wishes  it,  for  under  the  new  Game  Law 
which  went  into  effect  April  i,  eland  are  declared  royal 
game  and  shooting  them  is  forbidden,  under  penalty  of 


i92  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

a  heavy  fine  or  imprisonment,  or  both.  Thus  my  bull 
will  remain  one  of  the  very  last  ever  to  be  killed  in  British 
East  Africa.  Well  it  is  the  eland  should  be  saved,  in  a 
country  in  which  both  horses  and  mules  are  easy  and 
frequent  prey  to  several  types  of  fatal  horse  sicknesses, 
for  they  are  easily  domesticated,  and  it  is  hoped  their  vast 
bulk  of  weight  and  muscle  may  yet  prove  of  economic 
value  for  heavy  draft  purposes. 

Moreover,  as  Mr.  Roosevelt  is  more  likely  to  shoot  and 
kill  than  to  heed  their  petitions  that  he  should  not  shoot, 
it  may  interest  the  members  of  the  Society  for  the  Preven- 
tion of  Cruelty  to  Animals  to  know  that  the  Administration 
of  British  East  Africa  has  been  compelled  to  recognize  in 
the  new  Game  Law  the  loud  cries  of  settlers  for  protection 
against  the  depredations  of  wild  game.  Indeed,  the 
game  in  B.  E.  A.  must  be  thinned,  if  not  exterminated, 
before  farmers  may  enjoy  the  avails  of  their  land  holdings. 
Thus  the  new  law  permits  proprietors  to  allow  any  one 
holding  a  game  license  to  shoot  all  the  game  he  likes  on 
their  estates,  and  practically  removes  all  restrictions 
against  the  killing  of  game  on  one's  own  land. 

The  sheer  "vermin"  so  declared  by  the  law,  predatory 
beasts  against  which  no  life  is  safe,  biped  or  quadruped  — 
lion,  leopard,  hyena,  crocodile,  etc.  (while  the  "pro- 
tected" buffalo  and  rhino  are  just  as  dangerous  to  human 
life)  —  the  most  rabid  member  of  the  Society  for  the 
Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals  would  not  long  live 
neighbor  to  before  unlimbering  his  guns. 

For  example,  a  few  days  before  I  left  Juja  news  came 
from  the  manager  of  one  of  Mr.  McMillan's  farms  that 
his  next  neighbor,  a  young  German  named  Loder,  had 
been  killed  by  leopard.  Swift  and  Rutherfoord,  farmers 


POTTING  A  PYTHON  193 

a  day's  journey  north  of  Juja,  have  in  the  last  three  years 
killed  sixteen  lion  —  had  to  do  it  to  save  their  domestic 
stock  from  extermination. 

The  two  following  items  are  clipped  from  The  East 
African  Standard  of  March  27: 

THREE    LIONS    FOUR    MILES     FROM    MOMBASA:    A 
CHANCE  FOR  MOMBASA  SPORTSMEN 

The  natives  of  M'tongwe  have  seriously  appealed  to  European 
sportsmen  in  Mombasa  for  protection.  During  Monday  night  three 
lions  took  away  a  cow  from  a  native's  boma  and  on  Tuesday  night 
terrified  the  inhabitants  by  roaring  round  their  huts  seeking  food. 

On  Tuesday  afternoon  the  spoors  of  the  lions  were  seen  clearly 
marked  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  hole  where  Makalinga  buried 
the  body  of  the  late  Mr.  London.  The  natives  fear  that  the  spirits 
of  the  recently  hanged  murderers  have  entered  the  bodies  of  the 
lions  and  are  visiting  the  village  to  exact  penalties. 

A  MAN-EATER  KILLED 

For  some  time  past  Messrs.  Newland  and  Tarlton  have  been 
receiving  reports  of  the  existence  of  man-eating  lions  near  Lake 
Magadi.  It  was  reported  that  several  natives  lost  their  lives  through 
them. 

Last  week  Mr.  Tarlton  sent  Mr.  Stanton,  an  employee  of  the 
firm,  out  to  ascertain  facts  and  if  possible  dispose  of  the  danger. 
On  Thursday  Mr.  Stanton  came  across  a  huge  lioness  and  wounded 
her  severely.  Following  her  up,  he  again  hit  her,  this  time  through 
the  eye.  The  shot  was  not  fatal,  however,  and  the  enraged  animal 
immediately  charged,  knocking  Mr.  Stanton  over  and  stunning 
him.  His  gun  bearer  could  not  shoot,  for  fear  of  hitting  Mr.  Stanton. 
As  soon  as  Mr.  Stanton  rose  the  brute  struck  him  again.  She  then 
made  off,  and  on  being  followed  up  by  the  party  she  was  found 
crouching  behind  a  bowlder.  The  gun  bearer  hit  her  with  a  .450 
in  the  jaw,  completely  smashing  it,  and  then  struck  her  in  the  side, 
making  a  huge  gash.  Thinking  she  was  quite  dead,  Mr.  Stanton, 
who  was  still  very  dazed,  moved  up,  when  he  was  again  attacked; 


i94  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

but  before  he  was  down  the  gun  bearer  finished  the  matter  by  firing 
pointblank. 

We  have  seen  the  skin  and  skull  which  testify  to  the  fight. 
Strange  to  say,  Mr.  Stanton  was  struck  each  time  by  the  pads  of 
the  beast's  feet;  but  sustained  only  bruises.  A  Masai  who  was 
following  Mr.  Stanton  and  was  previously  warned  off,  was  badly 
mauled  and  torn  by  the  lioness  when  she  was  hiding  in  the  bush 
after  receiving  the  first  shot. 

Nor  is  the  farmer's  worst  actual  trouble  with  the 
man-eaters  or  other  predatory  types,  for  fencing  is  of  no 
earthly  avail  against  the  general  mass  of  the  game.  Juja's 
twenty  thousand  acres  was  once  stoutly  fenced,  and  with 
five  strands  of  barb  wire;  to-day  it  is  hard  to  find  a  two- 
hundred-yard  section  of  the  fence  standing  intact.  Over 
fences  the  big  buck  go  like  birds,  through  them  zebra 
chased  by  lion  smash  like  a  whirlwind,  and  nothing  but  a 
wire  screen  would  serve  to  keep  out  the  little  "Tommys," 
Granti,  dik-dik,  etc. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  proselyting  for  the  S.  P.  C.  A. 
in  British  East  Africa  would  be  hopelessly  uphill  work, 
even  for  the  most  zealous. 


XIII 
THE  LUCK  OF  THE  GAME 

RETURNED  to  Juja  House  Saturday  evening,  the 
thirteenth,  I  found  a  message  waiting  me  from 
Clifford  and  Harold  Hill,  who  until  recently  have 
managed  Sir  Alfred  Pease's  Theki  ostrich  farm,  and 
whose  own  ostrich  farm,  Katelembo,  adjoins  Theki  on 
the  east  and  south.  Their  message  advised  me  that  lion 
had  been  so  thick  about  their  place  for  a  week  that  they 
were  confident  they  could  show  me  a  chance  at  one  or 
more  if  I  came  over  immediately. 

Circumstances  had  compelled  me  to  decline  two  pre- 
vious invitations  from  them,  and  now  this  last  chance  was 
one  not  to  be  lost,  for  as  a  rule  no  section  of  British  East 
Africa  is  as  thickly  infested  with  lion  as  the  Theki  Farm 
of  Sir  Alfred  Pease  and  the  Katelembo  and  Wami  Farms 
of  the  Hill  cousins,  and  few,  if  any,  non-professional 
hunters  have  had  more  experience  with  lion  than  the  Hills. 
In  the  last  three  years  they  have  themselves  killed  fifteen 
lion  there  and  their  visiting  guests  have  shot  another  ten, 
or  a  total  of  twenty-five. 

Lucky  indeed  is  Mr.  Roosevelt  that  his  initiation  into 
the  gentle  sport  of  lion  shooting  will  be  at  the  hands  of  the 
Hills;  with  no  other  men  could  he  be  surer  of  success  or 
safer  against  serious  injury,  for  they  know  the  game  and 
have  the  nerve  to  play  it  right. 

Both  are  colonials  who  have  never  seen  England, 
South  African  bred,  descendants  of  families  which  were 


i96  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

among  the  first  British  settlers  of  Grahamstown  early 
in  the  last  century.  True  to  the  traditions  of  their 
Basuto-  and  Zulu-fighting  ancestors,  they  were  among 
the  first  colonials  to  enlist  for  the  Boer  War  —  Clifford  in 
the  Imperial  Light  Horse  and  Harold  in  Neville's  Horse  - 
and  among  the  last  mustered  out. 

The  war  over,  seized  by  the  restless  spirit  of  their 
pioneer  forebears,  both  trekked  away  north  into  the 
wilds  of  British  East  Africa,  planning  there  to  establish 
themselves  in  ostrich  farming  —  wherever  the  wild  birds 
were  thickest  —  to  which  in  their  youth  they  were  bred, 
and  which  in  the  southern  colonies  is  winning  such  large 
fortunes  for  the  initiated. 

Slender,  sinewy  men  of'  iron  endurance,  quiet  and 
gentle  of  speech,  steady,  cool-headed  shots  at  anything 
that  needs  lead,  but  tireless  workers  on  their  farm,  the 
Hills  have  never  hunted  lion  for  sport  but  only  as  a 
necessary  incident  of  the  day's  work. 

So,  the  hour  of  4  A.  M.  Sunday,  the  fourteenth,  found 
me  mounted  on  Walleye,  and  followed  by  Hassan  Yusef 
(riding  a  mule  and  carrying  my  two  rifles),  trotting  away 
through  the  darkness  and  bitter  chill  of  early  morning  in 
the  African  highlands,  on  a  short  cut,  first  through  the 
Athi  Plains  and  then  over  the  summit  of  the  Machakos 
Range,  to  the  Hill  farm,  thirty  miles  distant  from  Juja, 
where  I  arrived  about  noon. 

Too  busy  accumulating  ostriches  and  thinning  out 
lion  to  have  any  time  left  for  architecture,  I  there  found 
the  Hills  installed  in  two  grass  huts  of  the  sort  natives 
throw  up  in  a  day  or  two,  one  the  dormitory  and  the 
other  the  dining-room  —  both  windowless  because  the 
chinks  in  the  grass  walls  let  in  light  and  air  enough;  both 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  GAME        197 

doorless,  because  any  prowling  would-be  intruder  that 
might  be  excluded  by  a  proper  door  could  easily  enough 
force  entrance  through  the  flimsy  walls. 

And  there  for  three  days  I  was  made  as  welcome  and 
as  comfortable  as  ever  before  in  many  far  more  preten- 
tious diggings. 

Hanging  beneath  a  thorn  tree  behind  the  house,  cur- 
ing, were  the  four  fresh-killed  lion  skins  fallen  to  Harold's 
rifle  which  had  prompted  them  to  send  for  me. 

The  Thursday  of  the  week  previous  the  Hills  had  been 
spending  the  night  with  District  Commissioner  R.  W. 
Humphery,  the  Chief  Administrative  Officer  of  their 
District  of  Ukamba,  at  Machakos  Fort,  four  miles  from 
their  farm,  helping  Humphery  celebrate  his  birthday. 
At  an  early  morning  hour,  not  long  after  they  had  retired, 
the  Hills  were  awakened  by  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  and 
told  that  one  of  their  natives  had  just  arrived  with  word 
that  six  lion  had  broken  into  their  ostrich  boma  and  were 
killing  the  birds.  Racing  for  the  farm  as  fast  as  they 
could,  accompanied  by  Commissioner  Humphery  —  who 
had  been  eight  years  in  the  country  without  ever  seeing  a 
lion  until,  the  Christmas  Day  previous,  he  had,  while 
out  with  the  Hills,  bagged  a  lioness,  and  now  keen  for 
another  —  upon  arrival  they  found  the  lion  gone,  fright- 
ened away  by  the  din  made  by  the  natives,  and  three  of 
their  finest  birds  dead  and  half  eaten  in  the  boma. 

Sure  the  lion  would  return,  the  dead  birds  were  left 
where  they  lay,  the  living  transferred  to  a  distant  boma, 
and  a  platform  built  in  a  tree  that  stood  in  one  corner 
of  the  enclosure. 

The  boma  was  fifty  yards  square;  its  wall,  built  of 
huge  thorn  bush  piled  tightly  together,  easily  ten  feet 


198  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

thick  at  the  base  and  eight  feet  high.  Against  all  pre- 
cedent any  of  us  had  ever  heard  of,  the  six  lion  had 
actually  torn  their  way  through  this  most  formidable. 
heavily  spiked  barrier,  pulled  and  tugged  until  they 
had  opened  a  way  to  the  interior. 

Friday  night  the  men  took  two-hour  turns  on  guard 
upon  the  platform,  but  the  night  passed  without  in- 
cident. 

But  about  3  A.  M.  of  Sunday  morning,  on  Harold's 
watch  he  was  roused  by  movements  beneath  him,  to  see, 
by  the  half  light  of  a  waning  moon,  the  six  lion  returned, 
rending  the  dead  birds  and  quarrelling  like  cats  for  the 
best  bits. 

Instantly  he  began  firing,  and  soon  the  cracks  of  his 
rifle  were  drowned  by  the  deep  roars  of  the  lion,  mad  with 
rage  over  this  attack  by  an  enemy  they  could  not  see. 
Directly  one  scented  or  sighted  him  and  made  a  dash 
for  the  tree,~whose  platform  a  good  bound  might  easily 
have  reached,  but  Harold  luckily  dropped  him  with  a 
shot  through  the  spine. 

Presently  there  was  silence  below.  One  lion  lay,  ob- 
viously dead,  in  the  moonlight  beneath  him,  but  whether 
the  others  had  gone  or  were  lurking  in  the  shadows  he 
felt  so  little  sure  of  he  kept  to  his  perch  till  daylight  —  to 
find  all  gone  but  the  one. 

However,  before  noon  four  of  the  missing  five  were 
located,  all  severely  wounded,  in  a  near-by  ravine,  and, 
after  a  lot  of  careful  work  and  much  hazard,  three  of  the 
four  were  bagged. 

Early  Monday  morning  we  were  out,  the  two  Hills, 
myself  and  gun  bearer,  and  the  Hills'  Kikuyu  beaters  and 
trackers. 


CLIFFORD  AND  HAROLD  HILL,  AND  THE  TREE  PLATFORM  OVERLOOKING  THEIR 

BOMA 


THE  APPROACH  TO  DONGA  BUSH  ON  FRESH  LION  SPOOR 
ON  THE  KAPITI  PLAINS  WITH  THE  HILLS'  LION  TRACKERS 


y 

THE  LUCK  OF  THE  GAME        199 

The  Kapiti  Plains  are  almost  entirely  bare  of  cover, 
short  grassed,  bushless,  but  every  donga  (ravine)  is  densely 
filled  with  thorn,  reed,  and  weeds,  ~with  here  and  there  a 
water  pool  of  the  sort  lion  love  to  take  to  shortly  after 
dawn  in  the  dry,  hot  season  just  then  at  its  height,  and, 
to  be  seen,  out  of  this  cover  they  have  to  be  routed. 

Down  all  their  favorite  dongas,  over  the  rocky,  cave-slit 
crests  of  Theki  and  Wami,  through  the  dense  scrub  along 
the  lower  slopes  of  the  Machakos  between  Theki  and 
Kitanga,  for  three  days  Clifford  Hill  led  his  native  beat- 
ers, while  Harold  and  I,  on  foot,  marched  from  fifty  to 
three  hundred  yards  ahead  of  and  slightly  flanking  the 
line  of  beaters,  one  to  right  and  one  to  left  as  a  rule, 
but  never  a  lion  did  we  raise.  Once  we  struck  fresh  sign 
entering  a  bit  of  bush  and  thought  we  had  him,  the 
incident  shown  in  the  pictures  where  our  group  is  rather 
closely  bunched  and  advancing  to  where  we  thought  he 
lay.  But  on  out  of  the  bush  he  had  passed,  over  hard- 
baked  ground  where  he  left  no  further  sign. 

With  more  luck  than  I  had  ever  dared  hope  for  with 
all  other  big  game,  lion  are  evidently  not  meant  for  me  — 
like  Director  of  Surveys,  Colonel  G.  E.  Smith,  who  sur- 
veyed the  first  caravan  road  from  Mombasa  to  Uganda, 
who  was  chief  of  the  Anglo- German  Boundary  Survey,  and 
has  spent  the  larger  part  of  the  last  fifteen  years  in  the 
wildest  of  British  East  Africa's  wild  places,  who  on  these 
same  Kapiti  Plains  himself  killed  seventeen  rhino  in 
one  day  —  had  to  do  it  to  protect  his  safari  from  their 
continual  charges  —  but  who  to  this  day  has  never  seen 
a  lion. 

Tuesday,  just  before  beating  the  summit  of  Theki,  we 
had  lunch  with  Mr.  Allsop,  manager  of  Sir  Alfred  Pease's 


200  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

Theki  ostrich  farm,  in  his  little  two-room  tin  house,  which 
is  shrouded  in  granadilla  vines,  whose  delicious  passion 
fruit  was  then  purpling  and  should  be  prime  in  another 
month.  There  I  got  photographs  of  the  two  Arab 
stallions  newly  bought  by  Sir  Alfred  for  Mr.  Roosevelt's 
use,  and  arrived  only  the  day  before,  direct  from  the 
Soudan,  via  Mombasa. 

Wednesday  afternoon,  en  route  back  to  Juja,  Clifford 
Hill  and  I  visited  Kitanga,  the  new  house  Sir  Alfred  is 
building  for  the  reception  of  Mr.  Roosevelt,  then  nearing 
completion.  It  is  a  tin-roofed  one-story  bungalow,  the 
outer  walls  built  of  square  gray  granite  blocks,  the 
partitions  of  sun-dried  bricks,  of  five  rooms  —  a  central 
living  and  dining  room  flanked  by  four  small  bedrooms, 
and  sporting  two  baths.  Beautifully  situated  on  a  high 
shoulder  of  the  south  end  of  the  Machakos  Range,  about 
6,500  feet  above  sea  level,  its  broad  veranda  commands  a 
magnificent  view  —  east  over  tall  round-topped  hills 
thinly  clad  with  wild  olives,  south  across  the  dim,  hazy 
stretches  of  the  Kapiti  Plains  and  over  the  rugged  crests 
of  Chumvi,  Theki,  and  Wami,  the  only  mountain  uplifts 
that  break  the  plain's  monotony,  down  upon  the  white 
splotch  in  the  broad  yellow  field  which  represents  Kapiti 
Station,  twelve  miles  away,  and  on  through  the  purple 
distance  to  where,  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  away, 
Mt.  Kilima  N'jaro's  19,000  feet  tower  so  high  aloft 
toward  the  zenith  that  it  is  hard  to  realize  its  snow  and 
glacier-clad  crest  is  actually  a  mountain  peak  and  not  a 
cloud.  The  view  we  had  Mr.  Roosevelt  may  not  get, 
for  Mt.  Kilima  N'jaro  is  seldom  clearly  visible  from  there- 
abouts excepting  just  at  the  very  end  of  the  dry  season. 

The  group  of  men  appearing  in  the  picture  of  Kitanga, 


THE   LUCK  OF  THE  GAME        201 

contractors  engaged  in  building  the  house,  are  Boer 
emigrants  from  South  Africa,  now  farmers  living  in  a 
close  little  colony  along  the  slopes  of  Lucania,  a  small 
rugged  range  lying  between  the  Machakos  and  the  Athi 
River,  and  oddly  includes  three  men  bearing  names 
famous  in  Boer  history,  viz.,  a  Prinsloo,  a  Botha,  and  a 
Joubert,  the  latter  brother  to  General  Joubert,  with  whom 
Mr.  Roosevelt  can  exchange  campaigning  experiences  in 
their  mutually  native  Low  Dutch  tongue. 

Mr.  Roosevelt  is  due  to  reach  Kitanga  about  April 
24.*  At  the  Pease  house  he  will  probably  spend  little 
time,  as  only  small  buck  are  to  be  had  in  its  immediate 
vicinity.  His  lion  camp  will  doubtless  be  pitched  either 
at  Lanjaro,  a  small  spring  midway  between  Kitanga  and 
Theki,  or  on  the  Hills'  Wami  Farm,  five  miles  south  of 
Theki.  Thereabouts  by  May  the  Hills  will  be  able  to 
show  him  the  surest  and  safest  lion  hunting  known. 

With  thirty  inches  of  rain  due  in  April  and  no  more 
than  four  inches  in  May  the  season  will  then  be  prime, 
Kapiti  Plains  a  waving  meadow  of  short  grass,  every 
dry  donga  a  brook,  every  "pan"  a  brimming  pool  of 
sweet  water,  the  weather  so  cool  that  lion  then  rove  or 
idle  on  the  plains  by  day,  instead  of  seeking  cover  as  in 
the  dry  season,  where  they  may  easily  be  marked  down 

*  Arrived  at  Port  Said  at  2  A.  M.  April  10,  we  came  to  anchor  a  few  hundred 
feet  from  the  Admiral,  which  had  come  in  from  Naples  at  6  p.  M.  of  the  ninth. 
Neither  Mr.  Roosevelt  nor  any  of  his  party  had  been  ashore,  we  were  told. 

At  5 :3o  A.  M.  of  the  tenth  we  headed  out  northwest  across  the  line  of  the 
muddy  Nile  delta,  leaving  the  Admiral  still  coaling  but  due  to  up  anchor  and 
enter  the  canal  at  6  A.  M. 

The  morning  of  March  30  the  Melbourne,  floated  without  injury  from  the 
soft  coral  on  which  ske  had  grounded  on  a  falling  tide,  made  Kilindini  Harbor, 
and  at  3  P.  M.  my  good  friend  District  Commissioner  Isaac,  with  Mr.  McMillan, 
escorted  me  aboard  her  in  the  official  barge  of  Provincial  Commissioner  S.  L. 
Hinde,  the  same  in  which  Mr.  Hinde  and  Mr.  Isaac  will  receive  and  land  Mr. 
Roosevelt  and  his  party  —  of  which  I  got  a  snapshot  after  our  farewells  were 
said. 


202  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

by  a  man  with  a  telescope  on  the  summit  of  either  Theki, 
Wami,  or  Chumvi. 

The  moment  a  lion  is  sighted,  the  sportsmen  will  start 
after  him,  all  mounted.  So  soon  as  he  sights  them,  one 
of  the  Hills  will  spur  after  him,  run  him  to  bay,  and  there 
circle  and  worry  him  at  a  safe  distance  while  Mr.  Roose- 
velt gallops  up,  followed  by  his  gun  bearer,  to  within  one 
hundred  to  two  hundred  yards,  according  to  his  nerve 
and  confidence  in  his  shooting,  and  dismounts  for  his  shot. 
In  seven  cases  out  of  ten  the  lion  charges  the  pony  man 
instead  of  the  sportsman,  indeed  is  almost  sure  to  if  the 
rider  is  on  a  white  or  gray  horse,  resembling  a  zebra. 
And  when  he  does  charge  the  sportsman,  there  is  always 
a  chance  the  pony  man  may  head  and  divert  him;  but 
where  this  strategy  fails,  then  it  is  a  case  of  shoot  quick 
and  straight  or  take  (at  least)  a  rending  from  carrion- 
tainted  claws  certain  to  cause  fatal  blood  poisoning  if 
permanganate  of  potash  is  not  promptly  applied  to  the 
wounds  in  such  strength  that  the  treatment  is  even  more 
painful  than  the  wounds. 

Just  as  I  was  stepping  into  the  gharri  in  front  of  Juja 
House  the  afternoon  of  the  eighteenth,  to  go  to  Mombasa 
to  meet  Mr.  McMillan,  who  was  due  there  from  India 
the  twenty-first,  the  following  letter  was  handed  to  me : 

LONG  Juju,  March  18,  1909. 

[British  East  Africa.] 
To  E.  B.  BRONSON,  Esq.,  Juja  Farm. 

DEAR  MR.  BRONSON. —  I  saw  a  very  fine  lion  yesterday  morning, 
also  fresh  tracks  of  two  small  ones,  and  one  was  growling  around 
here  nearly  all  night. 

I  went  all  around  the  ditch  this  morning  early ;  but  did  not  see  one. 
Trusting  you  are  well,  believe  me, 

Yours  faithfully,  W.  MARLOW. 


t/3  W 


WILLIAM  NORTHRUP  MCMILLAN'S  NAIROBI  BUNGALOW 
MOHAMMEDAN  MOSQUE,  NAIROBI 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  GAME        203 

Thus  if  Mr.  Roosevelt  fails  of  a  chance  at  Theki,  it  is 
more  than  likely  the  Juja  estate  can  furnish  all  the  lion 
he  wants. 

The  night  we  reached  Nairobi,  Mr.  Cunninghame  dined 
with  us  at  Mr.  McMillan's  town  bungalow,  where  he 
learned  that  Mr.  Selous  comes  out  as  the  guest  of  Mr. 
McMillan,  with  whom  he  is  expecting  to  go  on  safari  for 
several  weeks  immediately  after  Mr.  Roosevelt's  visit 
to  Juja  is  finished.  Thus,  unless  they  arrange  otherwise 
while  shipmates  on  the  Admiral,  while  Mr.  Selous  may 
shoot  with  Mr.  Roosevelt  at  Theki  or  Juja  he  will  not 
accompany  any  of  Mr.  Roosevelt's  long  safaris. 

The  Juja  visit,  however,  may  be  deferred  to  a  later 
date,  as  Mr.  Cunninghame  is  keen  to  have  Mr.  Roosevelt 
come  out  with  him  on  a  short  safari  directly  he  leaves 
Sir  Alfred  Pease  and  before  the  "big  rains"  are  stopped  — 
after  certain  game  which  is  most  easily  had  during  the 
wet  season. 

If  such  a  short  safari  is  arranged,  it  is  probable  Mr. 
Cunninghame  will  take  Mr.  Roosevelt  to  Mt.  Kenya,  a 
week's  march  north  of  Juja,  for  elephant. 

As  for  the  long  safari  in  British  East  Africa,  if  the 
choice  is  left  to  Mr.  Cunninghame,  it  is  probable  it  will  go 
by  rail  from  Nairobi  sixty-four  miles  west  to  Naivasha, 
there  detrain,  circle  the  south  end  of  Lake  Naivasha, 
ascend  and  cross  the  precipitous  lofty  wall  of  the  Mau 
Escarpment  and  thence  drop  into  the  Sotik  country  —  for 
there  on  the  Limerick  Plains  and  along  the  upper  reaches 
of  the  Amala  River  is  Cunninghame's  favorite  place  for 
quickly  and  easily  bagging  fine  specimens  of  the  more 
abundant  species.  On  this  route,  in  four  to  five  days' 
march  from  Naivasha  Mr.  Roosevelt  will  be  in  good  shoot- 


204  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

ing.  There,  moreover,  he  will  be  in  reach  of  some  of  the 
rarer  species;  within  two  to  three  days'  march  roan  may 
be  had  on  the  crest  of  Isuria  Escarpment,  and  nearer  still, 
if  he  has  patience  and  luck,  the  Chipalungo  Forest  may 
yield  him  a  bongo,  while  two  days  west  of  Sotik  Boma, 
on  the  Rongana,  rhino  abound  sporting  horns  up  to  thirty- 
four  inches  in  length. 

The  Sotik  safari  finished,  I  shall  expect  to  see  Mr. 
Cunninghame  march  the  safari  north  from  Gilgil,  probably 
to  and  past  Rumuruti  Boma  on  the  Guaso  Narok  River, 
thence  swinging  west  to  Lake  Baringo  for  greater  Kudu 
and  lesser  Kudu,  or  perhaps  instead  descending  the 
northern  Guaso  Nyiro  River  and  following  it  east  along 
the  southern  boundary  of  the  great  Jubaland  Game  Re- 
serve, and  returning  to  Nairobi  via  Nyeri  and  Ft.  Hall. 

The  time  allotted  to  shooting  in  British  East  Africa 
nearing  its  finish,  I  shall  not  be  surprised  to  see  Mr. 
Roosevelt's  safari  lead  northwest  from  Londiani  Station, 
through  the  capital  shooting  on  the  Uasin  Guishu  Plateau, 
to  a  look  in  on  the  Cave  Dwellers  of  Mt.  Elgon,  whence 
its  descent  to  Jinja,  the  Nyanza  head  of  the  Nile,  will  be 
easy  by  one  of  the  excellent  roads  which  Governor  Bell's 
energetic  administration  has  given  to  Uganda. 

The  giant  white  rhino  I  see  in  the  home  press  Mr. 
Roosevelt  is  keen  for,  are  now  about  as  scarce  as  hens' 
teeth,  but  along  the  western  sources  of  the  Nile,  on  his  way 
to  Lake  Albert  Edward,  through  the  farther  limits  of  the 
Uganda  Province  of  Toro,  well  over  toward  the  Congo,  he 
may  have  the  luck  to  find  one. 

If  for  his  journey  across  Uganda  and  on  north  down 
the  Nile  to  Cairo  he  follows  the  usual  route,  and  the 
only  easy  one,  he  will  cross  the  north  end  of  Victoria 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  GAME        205 

Nyanza  from  Kisumu  to  Entebbe  in  one  of  the  excellent 
little  steamers  of  the  Uganda  Railway,  only  fifteen  hours 
actual  steaming,  but  passengers  are  never  landed  until 
the  morning  following  the  date  of  sailing.  From  Entebbe 
there  is  an  excellent  road  for  one  hundred  and  sixty  miles 
to  Hoima,  usually  covered,  in  rickshaw  or  on  bicycle,  in 
ten  days.  The  thirty-three  miles  from  Hoima  to  the  Lake 
Albert  Edward  port  of  Butiaba  is  over  such  rough  going 
that  it  must  be  done  on  foot,  a  good  two  days'  march. 
At  Butiaba  he  will  take  the  tiny  Government  launch 
Kenia,  on  which,  for  passengers  unable  to  crowd  into  the 
engineer's  cabin,  a  tent  is  pitched  on  deck.  Steaming 
from  dawn  to  dark  and  tying  up  over  night,  the  Kenia 
covers  the  three  hundred  odd  miles  down  lake  and  Nile  to 
Nimule  in  five  days.  From  Nimule  to  Gondokoro,  the 
head  of  upper  Nile  navigation,  the  river  falls  so  rapidly 
that  the  entire  one  hundred  and  thirty  intervening  miles 
must  be  done  afoot,  a  nine  days'  march.  From  Gondo- 
koro one  reaches  Khartoum  by  steamer  in  nine  days,  and 
then  three  days  more  by  rail  lands  one  in  Cairo. 

Thus  the  entire  distance  from  Entebbe  to  Cairo  may 
be  covered  in  thirty-eight  days,  but  it  is  not  likely  Mr. 
Roosevelt  will  press  straight  through  without  a  stop. 
Immediately  north  of  Gondokoro  there  is  capital  shooting, 
including  one  or  two  species  he  will  not  find  in  British 
East  Africa,  while  up  the  Sobat,  a  large  western  tributary 
entering  the  Nile  roughly  midway  between  Gondokoro 
and  Khartoum,  there  is  probably  the  best  open  country 
elephant  shooting  remaining  in  all  Africa,  and  there,  I 
understand,  Mr.  Cunninghame  is  likely  to  take  him  for  a 
finish  of  his  African  sport  on  royal  game. 

On  Friday  the  twenty-sixth  we  left  Nairobi  in  Mr. 


206  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

McMillan's  special  car  for  Mombasa,  to  which  he  was  re- 
turning to  meet  Mrs.  McMillan,  who  was  due  to  arrive 
there  from  India  the  thirty-first. 

On  Sunday  the  Melbourne,  northbound,  and  the 
Oxus,  southbound,  both  of  the  Cie  Mesageries  Maritimes, 
arrived  off  Kilindini,  the  west  and  principal  harbor  of 
Mombasa;  but  since  the  former  had  the  bad  luck  to  run 
aground  in  the  narrow  channel  entrance  and  the  latter  lay 
by  to  help  her,  it  was  not  until  Monday  that  both  were 
able  to  drop  anchor  in  the  harbor. 

The  Oxus  brought  Sir  Alfred  Pease,  Lady  Pease, 
and  their  daughter. 

While  we  were  at  breakfast  at  the  Grand  Hotel,  Sir 
Alfred  came  in  and  we  were  introduced.  A  tall,  spare, 
active  man  of  about  fifty,  the  Hills  tell  me  he  is  as  keen 
for  veldt  sport  as  any  youngster.  He  and  his  family  were 
hurrying  up  country  by  the  next  train  to  hasten  the  com- 
pletion and  furnishing  of  Kitanga. 

Asked  if  he  felt  sure  of  getting  Mr.  Roosevelt  his  lion, 
Sir  Alfred  replied: 

"Well,  one  never  can  tell,  you  know;  just  depends 
on  a  man's  luck.  Last  year  during  my  eight  weeks'  stay 
at  Theki  I  personally  saw,  all  told,  twenty-seven  lion, 
and  yet  for  the  three  weeks  of  the  same  period  my  friend 
Sir  Edmund  Loder  spent  with  me  there,  after  he  had  been 
out  three  months  on  safari  without  getting  or  even  seeing 
a  lion,  we  failed  entirely  to  show  him  one." 

Yes,  indeed,  it  is  all  just  a  matter  of  "luck,"  is  lion 
shooting  —  as  few  could  so  emphatically  prove  as  my 
friend  the  Cavaliere  A.  Parenti,  a  shipmate.  Many  have 
read  but  probably  few  have  credited  the  story  of  a  lion 
taking  a  man  from  a  carriage  of  the  Uganda  Railway. 


THE  LUCK  OF  THE  GAME   207 

And  yet  it  is  true  in  every  detail.  Cavaliere  Parenti  was 
one  of  the  three  men  in  the  compartment  in  which  the  man 
was  killed  and  from  which  he  was  carried  by  the  invader. 
Asked  to  refresh  my  memory  of  the  details  of  the  incident, 
he  replied : 

"Ah!  my  God,  but  I  can  smell  the  stench  of  that 
lion  yet,  for  I  lay  beneath  him  in  the  darkness  on  the  floor 
of  the  compartment  during  the  few  seconds  he  took  to 
crunch  the  life  out  of  poor  Ryall! 

"You  know,  Mr.  Ryall,  who  was  then  the  Superin- 
tendent of  the  Railway  Police,  our  friend  Mr.  Huebner, 
and  myself,  had  heard  of  a  man-eater  who  had  killed  and 
eaten  several  persons  between  the  stations  of  Kiu  and  Sul- 
tan Hamud,  and  left  Mombasa  to  hunt  him. 

"In  the  night  our  railway  carriage  was  cut  and  dropped 
from  the  train  in  the  vicinity  of  his  depredations,  and  the 
three  of  us  went  to  sleep,  preparatory  to  an  early  start 
in  the  morning. 

"How  did  the  man-eater  get  in?  God  knows;  I 
don't;  through  the  open  window  doubtless. 

"The  first  I  knew  I  was  on  the  floor  of  the  car,  beneath 
some  soft,  heavy,  foul-smelling  body;  then  I  heard  the 
crunch  of  huge  jaws  and  just  one  low,  horrid  cry  from 
where  Ryall  lay  in  the  berth  opposite  mine.  Then  the 
beast  was  off  in  a  leap  through  the  window  and  I  —  I 
found  poor  Ryall  gone. 

"Did  we  find  him?  Yes,  in  the  morning,  a  few  hun- 
dred yards  away —  But  please  don't  ask  me  more  —  I 
can't  talk  of  it  yet,  for  the  foul  smell  of  that  man-eater 
is  ever  in  my  nostrils,  poor  old  Ryall's  smothered  death 
shriek  ever  ringing  in  my  ears." 

.Yes,   and  also,  as  in  this  preceding  incident,  just 


208  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

"luck"  with  whom  the  sport  lies  —  the  biped  or  the 
quadruped  —  as  instance,  records  in  the  official  files  of  the 
Uganda  Railway  proving  that  eighty-four  laborers,  chiefly 
East  Indians,  were  killed  and  eaten  in  the  vicinity  of 
Tsavo  by  one  family  of  man-eaters,  consisting  of  a  black- 
mane,  a  lioness,  and  three  pups,  before  they  were  finally 
exterminated  by  Colonel  Patterson. 

And  while  the  files  and  records  of  the  railway  are  red 
with  such  tragedies,  they  are  also  at  times  lightened  with 
incidents  full  of  humor. 

For  years  and  to  this  day  the  Station  of  Simba  (Swa- 
hili  for  "  lion  ")  has  been  so  infested  with  lion  that  they 
are  a  constant  terror  to  the  resident  Hindu  baboo  (station 
master).  All  told,  about  twenty  have  been  shot  from  its 
doors  and  windows  and  from  the  top  of  the  adjacent 
water  tank.  Once  they  got  so  bad  the  company  was  com- 
pelled to  send  there  a  detail  of  ten  Askaris  (native  police), 
but  that  they  failed  to  afford  adequate  protection  was 
proved  by  the  fact  that  the  manager  received  a  day  or  two 
later  the  following  despatch  from  his  Simba  baboo: 

"At  time  of  roaring  policemen  are  not  so  brave;  please 
arrange  quick." 


XIV 
IS  CENTRAL  AFRICA  A  WHITE  MAN'S  COUNTRY? 

OF  all  the  long  line  of  national  or  international  ex- 
positions inspired  by  and  more  or  less  direct  se- 
quences of  that  with  which  the  Crystal  Palace  was 
opened  in  London  in  1851,  few  if  any  have  been  so  pictur- 
esque and  none  so  weirdly  interesting  as  the  first  Agricul- 
tural and  Industrial  Exhibition  of  Uganda,  held  November 
9  and  10, 1908, —  held  at  Kampala  in  a  valley  slumbering 
beneath  the  shadows  of  Mengo  Hill,  from  whose  crest, 
in  1877,  King  Mutesa  issued  orders  for  the  assassination 
of  the  first  party  of  pioneers  of  the  Christian  faith  (mem- 
bers of  the  Church  Missionary  Society)  that  ventured 
to  seek  foothold  in  the  heart  of  far-away  Equatorial  Africa. 

While  there  were  one  hundred  thousand  visitors,  many 
come  distances  of  from  one  hundred  to  two  hundred 
miles,  the  management  was  spared  the  vexatious  trans- 
portation difficulties  usually  incident  to  such  affairs,  for 
99,932  (the  natives)  came  afoot,  50  (local  officials  and 
missionaries)  came  on  bicycles  or  in  rickshaws,  and  the 
remaining  18  of  us  came  from  Nairobi  by  the  Uganda 
Railway  and  the  good  ship  Clement  Hill  of  the  Victoria 
Nyanza  service. 

King's  birthday  morning,  November  9,  we  dropped 
anchor  off  the  new  port  of  Luziro,  deep  in  Murchison 
Bay.  One  little  tin  warehouse  broke  the  solid  wall  of 
forest  that  lined  the  shore,  one  wobbly  little  pier  gingerly 
reached  out  a  few  yards  toward  deep  water  to  meet  our 

209 


210  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

approaching  boats  —  and  that  was  all  there  was  of 
Luziro. 

Come  ashore,  we  found  hidden  away  among  the  trees 
perhaps  a  score  of  rickshaws,  and  —  would  you  believe 
it? — an  automobile,  a  big  bus  affair  with  side  seats, 
the  Governor's  state  chariot.  Captain  Buxton,  Mr. 
Sewall,  and  I,  who  were  invited  to  lunch  with  His 
Excellency,  the  Governor,  Sir  H.  Hesketh  Bell,  K.  C. 
M.  G.,  had  no  more  than  begun  to  congratulate  our- 
selves upon  a  spin  across  the  Uganda  Hills  in  an  auto  be- 
fore our  hopes  were  dashed.  Up  came  an  aide  who  had 
been  conferring  with  Lieut.  Hampden  of  the  Clement  Hill 
to  tell  us  that  the  expected  supplies,  which  included  auto 
materials,  fuel,  etc.,  and  a  rare  lot  of  fireworks  ordered 
for  the  fete,  the  last  southbound  French  mail  steamer  had 
failed  to  land  at  Mombasa.  Instead,  it  had  steamed 
away  south  with  them  for  Madagascar  —  perhaps  (who 
knows?)  from  a  patriotically  malicious  intent  to  spoil 
one  British  festival  in  revenge  for  the  checkmate  France 
suffered  at  Fashoda. 

And  there  stood  our  steed,  come  to  us  pluckily  but 
spent  of  its  last  ounce  of  energy  in  the  coming,  sound  of 
body  but  empty  of  belly  —  of  no  more  use,  with  its  tanks 
empty,  than  its  weight  in  scrap  iron ! 

To  be  sure  the  "railway"  remained,  but  unfortunately 
it  was  not  an  available  alternative  —  no  more  use  to  us 
than  the  gasoline  and  pinwheels  bowling  away  toward 
an  ever-higher-rising  Southern  Cross,  for  it  then  only 
covered  a  scant  two  of  the  five  miles  that  separate  Luziro 
from  Kampala.  Moreover,  that  particular  "railway" 
looked  as  if  you  could  pack  it  on  your  shoulders  more 
easily  than  ride  on  it. 


IS  AFRICA  FOR  THE  WHITE  MAN?    211 

It  is  a  " mono-rail  system"  is  Kampala's,  of  a  sort 
quite  largely  installed  in  India  in  sections  where  the 
freight  traffic  stacks  up  no  more  than  a  few  tons  a  week, 
and  where  the  people  are  as  little  concerned  about  time 
as  about  eternity.  Laid  along  one  side  of  the  excellent, 
wide  Kampala  road,  this  lonely  rail  with  its  tiny  ties  looks 
like  a  primitive  ladder  prostrate.  There  the  motive 
power  is  cattle.  Where  mules  or  horses  are  available, 
I  am  assured  the  high  express  speed  of  six  miles  an  hour 
is  attained.  The  cars  used  have  two  wheels,  one  of 
which  trundles  along  the  ground  like  any  honest  cart 
wheel,  while  the  other  straddles  the  rail  and  on  it  con- 
trives to  accomplish  a  more  or  less  successful  rope-walk- 
ing stunt,  usually  less.  When  finished,  its  time  schedule 
is  likely  to  be,  as  closely  as  I  could  judge,  tri- weekly  —  a 
run  down  toward  Luziro  one  week  and  a  hard  try  to  get 
back  up  to  Kampala  the  third  week. 

Once  outside  the  belt  of  tall  forest  that  lines  the  lake, 
bowling  along  in  rickshaws  at  close  to  tram-car  speed 
on  down-hill  and  level  stretches,  with  a  sturdy  Baganda 
in  the  shafts  and  two  of  his  mates  pushing  aft,  all  droning 
the  monotonous  but  musical  chant  without  which  no 
Central  African  black  can  do  any  sort  of  toil,  we  entered 
a  densely  settled  country  where  round-topped  grass  huts 
were  ever  peeping  out  of  the  banana  groves  and  smiling 
natives  ever  peeping  out  of  the  huts.  The  men  were 
decorously  robed  in  long  white  Kanzus  reaching  from  neck 
to  feet,  the  women  d&colkte,  bare  of  neck  and  arms  but 
otherwise  swathed  in  folds  of  snowy  cotton  wound  tight 
beneath  the  arm  pits  and  over  the  hips,  a  most  striking 
contrast  to  the  buxom  Kavirondo  beauties  who  are  their 
next  neighbors  to  the  east,  and  who  while  never  more 


212  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

heavily  draped  of  figure  than  by  a  slender  string  of  beads 
circling  the  waist,  are  far  more  virtuous  than  the  Uganda 
women.  Fields  of  cotton,  bananas,  cassava,  dotted  here 
and  there  with  the  graceful  fronds  of  the  date  palm, 
stretched  as  far  as  we  could  see  from  the  tallest  hilltops. 

Passing,  toward  noon,  through  the  one  street  of  the 
Indian  Bazaar,  we  were  in  the  heart  of  Kampala,  although 
one  would  never  know  it  until  told.  About  us  stood  the 
six  high  hills  that  constitute  it  —  Mengo,  occupied  by  the 
boy  king,  Daudi  Chwa,  his  regents,  ministers,  and  court, 
the  site  of  their  ancient  capitol  when  Lugard  first  won 
their  confidence;  Nakasero,  by  the  English  military  and 
civil  officials  and  the  boma,  or  barracks,  of  the  one  com- 
pany of  Sikh  Infantry  and  the  King's  African  Rifles,  the 
the  latter  native  troops;  Nsambya,  by  Saint  Joseph's 
Mission;  Namirembe,  by  the  English  Cathedral  of  the 
Church  Missionary  Society;  and  Rubaga,  by  the  White 
Fathers. 

Descending  towards  the  Exposition  grounds,  we 
bumped  into  another  startler  —  nothing  less  than  an 
American  merry-go-round,  and  a  big  one  at  that,  perched 
on  a  bench  by  the  side  of  the  road,  whirling  gayly  with  a 
rider  on  its  every  horse,  waiting  native  thousands  throng- 
ing thick  about,  keen  for  a  chance  of  a  mad  gallop  - 
this  the  one  only  (but  never  lonely)  prototype  of  Chicago's 
"Streets  of  Cairo"  or  St.  Louis's  "Great  White  Way"  the 
modest  little  Exhibition  could  boast. 

The  Exhibition  gounds  lay  in  a  little  valley  at  the 
foot  of  Namirembe  Hill  and  covered  a  space  of  nine 
hundred  by  three  hundred  feet. 

While  impaired  by  heavy  showers,  the  scene  when 
Governor  Bell  formally  opened  the  Exhibition  was  one 


OPENING  OF  THE  FIRST  UGANDA  EXPOSITION:   ENGLISH  CATHEDRAL  IN 

DISTANCE 

THE  KAMPALA  MERRY- Go- ROUND 


•»-•»     , 


tipafi 


GOVERNOR  BELL  AND  STAFF  ARRIVING  AT  FIRST  UGANDA  EXPOSITION 

THE  EXPOSITION  OPENED  BY  GOVERNOR  BELL:    KING  OF  ANKOLE,  THE 
GIANT  FIGURE  ON  LEFT 


IS  AFRICA  FOR  THE  WHITE  MAN?    213 

to  dwell  always  in  the  minds  of  all  lucky  enough  to  be 
present. 

At  the  north  end  of  the  grounds  stood  the  pavilion 
of  honor,  ablaze  with  the  colors  dear  to  British  hearts, 
facing  Namirembe  Hill  and  the  graceful  pinnacles  of  the 
English  Cathedral  that  crown  it.  Grouped  at  the  other 
end  and  along  the  east  and  west  lines  stood  the  Exhibi- 
tion buildings,  all,  like  the  pavilion,  walled  and  thatched 
with  glistening  gray  elephant  grass  that  made  the  green- 
sward of  the  parallelogram  look  like  a  vast  velvet  rug 
bordered  with  silver.  Drawn  up  fifty  yards  in  front  of 
the  pavilion  stretched  the  grim  lines  of  a  company  of 
Sikh  Infantry,  stern-faced,  bushy-bearded,  red-turbanned 
stalwarts ;  to  the  right,  a  company  of  the  King's  African 
Rifles,  massive  blacks  of  a  dozen  different  races  but 
chiefly  Nubians  and  Soudanese,  uniformed  in  black 
jerseys  and  tall  black  tarbooshes;  nearer  still  the  band. 

Massed  just  without  the  policed  lines  were  thousands 
of  white-robed  blacks. 

The  pavilion  itself  was  a  bank  of  the  most  brilliant 
variegated  color  —  the  blue  and  gold  of  the  uniforms  of 
the  Governor  and  his  staff;  the  white  and  gold  of  the 
line  officers;  the  heavily  gold-embroidered  robes  of  the 
native  kings  and  chiefs,  some  of  black  broadcloth  and 
some  of  rich  russet-hued  bark  cloth  of  native  make;  the 
purple  and  scarlet  skull  caps  of  rich  Indian  merchants; 
the  delicate  hues  of  the  Paris  gowns  of  a  score  of  English 
ladies,  wives  of  the  officials;  white  and  black  robed  Sis- 
ters of  the  Church,  black  and  white  gowned  brethren  of 
the  faith  —  many  of  the  officers  and  a  few  of  the  officials 
starred  of  breast  with  decorations  that  told  of  distin- 
guished services  to  the  State,  the  decoration  that  natu- 


2i4  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

rally  dwarfed  all  the  others,  both  in  magnificence  and  in 
demand  for  space  on  human  topography,  being  the  "Star 
of  Zanzibar,"  that  of  one  of  earth's  smallest  potentates, 
the  Sultan  of  Zanzibar. 

To  the  right  of  the  Governor  sat  the  bright-faced  boy 
King  of  Uganda,  his  Highness,  Daudi  Chwa;  to  the 
left;  his  senior  regent,  Sir  Apolo  Kagwa,  K.  C.  M.  G., 
a  full-blood  Baganda,  but,  if  you  please,  a  belted  knight 
of  the  British  Empire.  Near  about  were  grouped,  each 
surrounded  by  his  elder  councillors  and  chiefs,  the  Kings 
of  Unyoro,  Toro,  and  Ankole,  and  the  Kakunguru  and 
the  Saza  Chief  of  Usoga,  all  feudal  lords  of  his  diminu- 
tive Highness  of  Uganda. 

The  hour  of  the  opening  of  the  Exhibition  was  justly 
a  proud  moment  for  Sir  H.  Hesketh  Bell,  K.  C.  M.  G., 
the  Governor.  Of  wide  administrative  experience,  great 
energy,  and  of  exceptional  executive  ability,  in  his  scant 
two  years  in  Uganda  he  has  had  remarkable  success  in 
welding  together  into  a  fairly  homogeneous  whole  the 
previously  loosely  knit  feudal  elements  of  Daudi  Chwa's 
kingdom;  and  by  a  great  amount  of  road  building,  and 
good  road  building  at  that,  he  has  accomplished  more 
towards  the  opening  up  of  the  commerce  of  the  country 
than  all  his  predecessors.  Indeed,  at  no  previous  time 
would  the  transportation  facilities  of  the  country  have 
permitted  the  assembly  of  such  an  exhibition  (amounting 
to  four  thousand  exhibits)  of  native  products,  many  come 
from  remote  points  on  the  Nile,  out  of  the  north,  and  some 
from  far  southern  Ankole,  near  to  Lake  Kivu.  Nor, 
perhaps,  at  any  previous  time  would  tribal  jealousies 
have  left  such  an  assembly  possible. 

After  a  brief  address  of  welcome  to  the  visiting  dig- 


IS  AFRICA  FOR  THE  WHITE  MAN?     215 

nitaries,  and  of  congratulation  upon  their  progress  in 
education  and  in  organized  industry,  Governor  Bell 
received  in  turn  the  visiting  feudatories  and  their  chiefs, 
and  the  Exhibition  was  declared  open. 

Then  the  dignitaries  and  the  visitors  dispersed  among 
the  exhibits,  viewed  the  samples  of  most  excellent  wheat, 
corn,  cassava  flour,  chillies,  peas,  beans,  peanuts,  rice, 
yams,  ghee  (clarified  butter),  potatoes,  rubber,  beeswax; 
of  vegetables  and  fruits;  saw  the  production  of  coffee  in 
all  its  stages,  from  the  picking  of  the  berry  through  curing 
to  the  cup;  were  shown  cotton  in  the  boll  and  in  the 
ginning;  marvelled  at  the  native  cunning  of  the  basket 
and  mat  and  cloth  weavers,  the  patience  and  fair  handi- 
work of  the  ironsmiths  with  none  but  the  crudest  of  tools ; 
stood  in  dumb  surprise  before  the  long  line  of  round- 
mallet-wielding  bark  cloth  makers,  and  saw  a  small 
eighteen-inch  square  of  tree  bark  slowly  expand  to  the 
wide  proportions  of  an  ample  mantle,  the  finished  pro- 
duct smooth  and  soft  of  texture,  the  color  any  of  many 
tints  from  a  pale  amber  to  an  Indian  red;  saw  all  these 
laughing,  singing  workers  squatting  to  their  tasks  —  for 
no  Baganda  can  even  contrive  to  till  or  crop  the  soil 
unless  he  is  comfortably  down  upon  his  haunches,  and 
then  his  hands  are  helpless  unless  they  are  plied  in  time 
to  the  lilt  of  some  tune  or  song. 

While  an  extraordinary  and  most  interesting  Exhi- 
bition, nevertheless  I  recall  no  native  working  with  any 
but  native  tools  at  native  tasks,  making  and  doing  the 
sort  of  things  they  have  been  making  and  doing  from  time 
immemorial,  except  a  few  lacemakers  taught  by  mission 
ladies,  and  the  feeders  of  the  cotton  gin;  indeed,  there 
was  little  in  the  show  emphatic  of  material  industrial 


216  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

progress  except  in  the  matter  of  cotton  growing,  the  pro- 
duction of  which  has  increased  from  the  value  of  $30  in 
1904  to  $240,000  in  1907-08. 

Not  the  least  notable  feature  of  the  Exhibition  was 
the  youthful  King  of  Ankole,  a  twenty-four-year-old, 
seven-foot  giant,  of  an  intelligent  and  most  pleasing  face. 
Nor  were  his  principal  exhibits  less  notable  in  their  pro- 
portions and  attractiveness  than  was  he  himself;  his 
cows  wore  horns  that  would  make  the  biggest  Texas  steer 
look  like  a  two-year-old;  and  behind  him  throughout 
the  day  trailed  a  harem  of  thirty-seven  dusky  beauties 
of  every  tint  from  ebony  to  pale  chocolate,  and  of  all 
ages,  apparently,  from  fourteen  to  four  hundred. 

A  Marathon  race  was  started  about  three  o'clock. 
The  course  measured  one  hundred  yards  longer  than  that 
of  Olympia,  and  not  only  was  the  course  an  endless  suc- 
cession of  steep  hills,  but  during  the  last  two  hours  the 
runners  had  to  contend  with  rain  and  mud  so  heavy  that 
the  white  judges  on  bicycles  came  in  completely  worn  out. 
Of  the  forty-eight  starters,  none  were  trained.  Never- 
theless remarkable  time  was  made,  the  winner,  Kapere, 
a  native  of  Uganda,  finishing  in  three  hours,  three  min- 
utes, only  seven  minutes  over  Olympia  time.  Only  two 
others  finished,  one,  Rubeni,  coming  in  sixteen  seconds 
after  Kapere,  and  the  third,  Atanansi,  three  minutes  later. 
And  weirdest  of  all,  the  first  two,  standing  for  a  photo 
ten  minutes  after  their  arrival,  showed  not  the  least  sign 
of  distress  —  not  a  heave  of  flank  or  a  tremor.  Obviously, 
with  decent  roads  and  a  bit  of  training,  this  pair  would 
be  tough  customers,  in  any  company,  over  a  twenty-six- 
mile  course. 

What   magnificent   reserves  of  latent   energy  dwell 


IS  AFRICA  FOR  THE  WHITE   MAN?    217 

within  the  huge  bodies  of  those  equatorial  blacks,  poten- 
tial to  turn  every  acre  of  land  they  inhabit  into  areas  of 
enormously  rich  productivity,  if  only  they  could  be  freed 
of  the  lethargy  within  which  the  ease  of  their  winning 
a  subsistence  enwraps  them.  And  yet  breakfasting  two 
days  later  in  Entebbe  at  the  excellent  Equatorial  Hotel 
of  Madame  Berti,  on  purple  passion  fruit  and  ripe  figs, 
at  a  table  covered  with  orchids  that  would  be  worth  a 
small  fortune  in  New  York,  looking  off  down  the  perfect 
roadway,  surfaced  with  red  morain,  that  drives  straight 
through  the  botanical  gardens,  and  out  across  the 
sapphire  of  the  lake  to  the  deep  blue  of  its  farther  head- 
lands, breathing  an  atmosphere  whose  every  whiff  suf- 
fused one's  senses  with  the  passive  joys  of  dolce  far 
niente,  it  was  not  at  all  so  easy  to  suppress  sentiments  of 
regret  that  these  ease-loving  children  of  Nature  must 
needs  be  beguiled  and  bedeviled  by  white  intrusion  among 
them. 

Throughout  the  half-century  elapsed  since  the  daring 
of  Livingstone,  Speke,  Burton,  and  Stanley  made  known 
to  the  civilized  world  the  vast  store  of  raw  riches  it  holds, 
its  enormous  resources  under  cultivation  as  a  producer, 
not  only  of  food  and  clothing  but  of  an  infinite  variety 
of  trees  and  plants  that  supply  the  rare  and  high-priced 
drugs  of  commerce,  England  and  the  Continental  powers 
have  been  grabbing  greedily  for  the  last  square  foot  they 
dared  appropriate  of  Equatorial  Africa. 

And  yet  to-day,  after  many  years  of  administrative  ex- 
perience, experiment,  and  study,  the  fundamental  moot- 
point  as  to  the  ultimate  value  of  their  holdings  remains 
unsolved. 
•  Is  Equatorial  Africa  —  roughly  the  middle  third  of 


2i 8  IN  CLOS-ED  TERRITORY 

the  Dark  Continent  —  ever  to  become  a  white  man's 
country  in  anything  more  than  name  and  administra- 
tion—  a  country  where  white  colonists  may  settle  and 
subsist  en  masse? 

This  is  the  problem  that  is  vexing  home  Colonial 
Offices  and  local  Administrative  Councils,  and  that  one 
hears  continually  discussed  by  settlers  on  the  streets  and 
in  the  clubs  of  Mombasa,  Nairobi,  Entebbe,  Dar-es- 
Salaam,  Tanga,  etc. 

And  the  problem  is  all  the  more  intensely  interesting 
from  the  fact  that  it  is  not  only  infinitely  complex  but, 
in  many  of  its  elements,  without  precise  parallel. 

Of  course  its  nearest  modern  parallels  exist  in  the 
conquest  and  colonization  of  North  and  South  America. 
But  while  in  North  America  the  red  native  was  easily 
displaced  and  his  territory  appropriated  and  occupied 
through  the  gradual  process  of  extermination,  resultant 
in  small  measure  from  warfare  and  in  large  measure  from 
vices  and  diseases  contracted  from  the  invaders,  and 
while  the  same  end  was  attained  in  South  America  partly 
by  ruthless,  indiscriminate  slaughter,  and  partly  by  the 
blood  admixture  come  of  broadcast  inter-marriage  be- 
tween invading  and  native  races,  on  the  contrary  the 
native  black  population  of  Central  Africa  (bar  the  original 
small  Kingdom  of  Uganda  proper,  where  generations  of 
semi-civilized  rule  and  habit  have  wrecked  morals  and 
reduced  the  birth  rate)  increases  under  contact  with  and 
restraint  by  civilization,  and  its  women  are  not  of  types 
to  leave  it  conceivable  that  white  colonists  will  mate  with 
them  on  any  wholesale  scale. 

The  black,  nearer  to  the  primary  brute  vigor  of  the 
beasts  of  his  native  jungle  in  every  physical  function  than 


Karrolit  Desert 

Mt.KoKomo 


JUBULANDHoherti 
Deseri 


BRITISH 
EAST  AFRICA 

SCALE  Of  MILES 


0  60  100 

Railroads 
^Vf  Game  Reserve  Boundaries  __.. 


DETAIL  MAP  OF   BRITISH  EAST  AFRICA,   SHOWING   "CLOSED  TERRITORY"   AND   ROUTE  OF 

AUTHOR'S  LONG  SAFARI 


IS    AFRICA   FOR  THE  WHITE   MAN?    219 

is  the  white  man,  the  product  of  untold  centuries  of  adap- 
tation to  resistance  to  the  many  perils  to  life  that  lurk 
along  the  equator,  endures  exposure  to  sun  and  other 
climatic  trials  and  easily  recovers  from  wounds  no  white 
man  could  survive,  even  eats  decaying  flesh  or  fish  without 
being  poisoned  by  ptomaines  —  so  eats  without  injury 
or  illness  of  any  sort,  except  that  the  elephantiasis  (a 
terrible  enlargement  of  the  body,  usually  of  the  feet  or 
lower  limbs),  prevalent  along  the  coast  and  about  the 
lakes,  is  attributed  to  the  consumption  of  putrid  fish. 

The  blacks  are  there,  there  in  uncounted  millions, 
there  in  population  probably  more  dense  than  that  of 
the  wild  tribesmen  Caius  Julius  found  occupying  Britan- 
nia, just  before  the  dawn  of  the  Christian  era;  and,  in  like 
manner,  it  is  easily  conceivable,  Caesar  and  the  long  string 
of  consuls  that  followed  him  through  the  next  four  hun- 
dred years  were,  up  to  the  last  hour  before  their  final 
expulsion,  constantly  debating  whether  Britannia  was 
ever  ultimately  to  become,  actually,  a  Roman's  country! 

Is  the  history  of  Roman  Britain  to  be  repeated  in  an 
ultimate  expulsion  of  the  white  invaders  of  Equatorial 
Africa?  Doubtless  not,  literally,  and  yet  that  it  may  be 
measurably  repeated  I  am  much  inclined  to  believe, 
repeated  to  the  extent  of  prevention  of  its  occupation 
by  wrhites  in  predominating  numbers. 

While,  through  bad  diet  and  ignorance  of  all  rules 
of  hygiene  more  susceptible  to  ordinary  germ  diseases 
than  whites,  the  blacks  more  hardily  withstand  them. 
Inter-  and  inner-  tribal  warfare  and  human  sacrifices  to 
heathen  gods  now  stopped  —  conditions  which  alone 
served  to  prevent  a  hopelessly  dense  overcrowding  of 
population  in  the  past  —  it  is  only  a  matter  of  years,  and 


220  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

not  so  many  at  that,  until  the  blacks,  fecund  as  their 
flowerpot-rich  soil,  fill  all  the  land  from  sea  to  sea.  This 
nothing  can  prevent  except  a  war  of  extermination,  which 
modern  ethics  forbid,  or  disease. 

And  in  the  matter  of  disease,  what  is  to  decimate 
them  ?  Pulmonary  diseases  so  far  are  a  negligible  quantity. 
Vice  and  the  ills  it  brings  will  not  do  it,  for  drunkenness 
and  licentiousness  and  the  long  train  of  diseases  they 
engender,  which  alone  served  to  wipe  out  the  North 
American  Indian,  have  for  generations  been  widely 
prevalent  among  them.  Syphilis  they  apparently  make 
complete  recovery  from  without  classical  treatment,  so 
local  physicians  told  me.  Even  the  bubonic  plague  has 
no  chance  there  now  that  a  competent  medical  protecto- 
rate over  them  has  been  established  —  as  witness  the 
prompt  eradication  of  the  recent  violent  outbreak  of  that 
disease  at  Kisumu. 

Indeed,  of  the  endlessly  long  list  of  known  human  ills, 
only  one  stands  as  a  serious  threat  to  the  equatorial  black, 
viz.,  the  sleeping  sickness,  Trypanosomiasis,  for  which  so 
far  medical  science  has  been  able  to  do  little  more  than 
give  it  a  name.  No  more  is  to-day  known  of  its  actual 
cause  or  of  a  cure  for  it  than  when,  in  July,  1891,  it  stole 
into  Kampala,  come  from  God  alone  knows  where,  and 
quickly  showed  itself  to  be  the  most  relentless  and  stubborn 
human  scourge  medical  science  has  ever  had  to  encounter. 
Within  the  first  twelvemonth  it  had  claimed  thirty  thou- 
sand victims,  all  natives  resident  on  the  islands  of  Victoria 
Nyanza,  chiefly  of  the  Sessi  group,  or  along  the  north  and 
west  shores  of  the  great  lake. 

Through  the  instrumentality  of  the  Royal  Society, 
Colonel  Sir  David  Bruce  of  the  Indian  Service,  one  of  the 


IS  AFRICA   FOR  THE  WHITE  MAN?    221 

ablest  bacteriologists  living,  spent  the  year  1903  in  a  close 
study  of  the  disease  on  the  ground.  But  all  he  was  able 
to  learn  was  that  it  is  communicated  by  the  bite  of  the 
Glossina  palpalis,  a  species  of  the  tsetse  fly,  a  small 
grayish-black  chap  the  tips  of  whose  wings  cross  in  a 
"swallow-tail"  when  folded. 

Within  the  infected  areas  of  Uganda,  Unyoro,  and 
Usoga,  by  the  end  of  1905  a  full  two-thirds  of  the  popula- 
tion of  three  hundred  thousand  people  were  dead  of  the 
scourge,  notwithstanding  the  enforced  removal  of  well 
natives  en  masse  to  a  distance  of  two  or  three  miles  back 
from  lake  shore  and  stream  sides,  beyond  the  known  zone 
of  tsetse  occupation;  the  isolation  as  rapidly  as  possible 
of  the  sick  upon  islands  of  the  lake;  and  the  clearing 
away  of  trees,  jungle,  and  long  grass  in  the  vicinity  of 
Entebbe  and  Jinja. 

Now  it  is  sweeping  south  along  Tanganyika  toward 
Rhodesia,  east  into  German  and  Portuguese  territory, 
and  has  already  left  a  wide  swath  of  dead  behind  it  in 
its  march  around  the  north  end  of  Victoria  Nyanza, 
through  the  Province  of  Usoga,  and  into  the  Kavirondo 
country,  where,  already  far  to  the  east  of  Kisumu,  it  is 
rapidly  ascending  the  watersheds  of  the  Kuja  and  Oyani 
Rivers  toward  the  very  heart  of  British  East  Africa. 

Indeed,  when  on  January  19  last  the  need  of  food 
compelled  me  to  descend  into  the  Oyani  valley  from  the 
Kisii  Highlands,  where  I  had  been  after  elephant,  and  I 
there  encountered  Deputy  Commissioner  Northcote  and 
Dr.  Baker,  engaged,  with  a  large  party  of  Askaris  (native 
soldiers),  in  building  hospitals  for  the  care  of  sleeping 
sickness  sufferers,  I  was  told  by  them  that  mine  would  be 
the  last  safari  to  be  allowed  to  enter  the  Province  of 


222  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

Kisumu,  for  fear  the  porters  might  contract  the  disease 
and  scatter  it  north  and  east  through  the  Protectorate. 

Looking  down  upon  the  beautiful  palm-lined  valley 
of  the  Oyani,  far  as  the  eye  could  see  the  country  was 
brown  with  fields  of  the  ripening  metama,  gray  with  the 
grass-roofed  villages,  bright  with  the  piebald  herds  of 
cattle  and  sheep  of  the  thrifty  Kavirondo,  five  thousand 
of  whom  were  then  sick  of  the  disease  —  which  means  as 
bad  as  dead  of  it,  and  almost  all  of  whom  confront  practi- 
cally certain  extermination  in  the  next  four  years. 

Over  the  entire  field  of  its  prevalence,  doubtless  close 
to  a  half-million  people  are  dea.d  of  the  sleeping  sickness 
since  its  first  observation  in  1891. 

While  crossing  the  lake  from  Kisumu  to  Entebbe,  I 
met  Captain  F.  Percival  Mackie,  of  the  Indian  medical 
service,  one  of  Sir  David  Bruce's  large  staff  of  physicians 
and  nurses,  just  in  from  India  on  a  two  years'  detail  for 
further  close  study  of  the  disease.  Sir  David  had  pre- 
ceded him  a  few  weeks  and  already  had  established  two 
hospital  camps,  one  about  midway  between  Kampala  and 
Jinja,  another  to  the  east  of  Jinja,  in  Usoga. 

And  there  now  on  the  very  firing  line  this  devoted  but 
numerically  puny  little  band  of  soldiers  of  science  stands 
coolly  battling,  virtually  at  death  grips,  with  the  monster, 
—  the  monster  that,  remaining  uncontrolled  for  yet  a  few 
years,  is  the  one  potentiality  that  can  quickly  and  surely 
make  Equatorial  Africa  "a  white  man's  country";  for 
while,  so  far,  it  has  claimed  comparatively  few  white 
victims,  not  only  do  the  blacks  easily  become  infected, 
but  all  who  get  it  die  of  it. 

Indeed,  cutting  out,  if  it  so  chooses,  the  economics  and 
the  humanities  of  the  local  situation,  could  the  civilized 


WAKAMBA  WITCH  DOCTORS 


YOUNG  WAKAMBA  WARRIORS  LINED  UP  SINGING  AND  WAITING  FOR  GIRLS  TO 

SELECT  PARTNERS 

THE  DANCE  AFTER  PARTNERS  WERE  SELECTED 


IS   AFRICA   FOR  THE  WHITE  MAN?    223 

world  realize  what  terrible  sacrifice  of  human  life  might 
ensue  if  the  sleeping  sickness  should  contrive  to  steal 
across  to  European,  American,  or  Asian  shores  —  and 
that  such  disaster  is  not  impossible  is  proved  by  the  fact 
that  often  cases  have  not  developed  until  months  after 
any  possibility  of  infection,  and  by  the  further  fact  that  it 
is  not  yet  definitely  known  that  the  mosquito  or  some  other 
fly  than  the  tsetse  may  not  communicate  the  disease  — 
scientific  columns  would  be  hastening  to  the  front  from  all 
the  Great  Powers  of  the  world,  bent  on  a  joint  assault 
of  the  enemy  before  it  is  too  late. 

But  that  the  monster  will  be  conquered  before  it  is 
too  late,  the  vast  resources  and  recent  accomplishments 
in  bacteriology,  prophylaxis,  and  therapy  leave  us  every 
reason  to  hope,  if  not  to  expect. 

And  then,  the  monster  shackled,  what  of  Equatorial 
Africa,  socially  and  industrially?  Logically,  with  the 
death  rate  by  war  stopped  and  by  disease  checked,  the 
millions  of  blacks  already  occupying  the  central  plateau 
and  the  lake  and  Nile  basins  must  go  on  increasing  until, 
in  a  few  decades,  they  will  number  well-nigh  all  Equa- 
torial Africa  can  comfortably  hold  and  support;  for  it  is 
to  be  remembered  that  there  are  enormous  areas  of  the 
more  arid  plateaus  of  British  and  German  East  that, 
while  intrinsically  rich  as  the  best  of  our  Southern  Cali- 
fornia, Arizona,  or  New  Mexico  lands,  no  native  blacks 
could  subsist  on  if  confined  to  limited  sections,  and  which 
none  but  the  most  scientific  modern  farming  could  render 
profitable. 

And,  given  the  survival  and  increase  of  the  blacks, 
what,  then,  the  future  of  the  country?  Of  course,  bar 
the  arising  of  unthinkable  conditions,  Equatorial  Africa 


224  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

must  remain,  for  generations  anyway,  under  white  ad- 
ministration —  at  least  until  a  universal  consent  is  reached 
to  withdraw  and  let  the  blacks  work  out  their  own  prob- 
lems, which  is  inconceivable,  as  meaning  certain  reversion 
to  stark  savagery. 

And  throughout  such  period,  be  it  long  or  short,  it 
is  inevitable  that  many  thousands  of  the  adventurous  or 
discontented  of  all  white  nationalities  will  go  there  as 
settlers. 

What  are  their  chances  ?  Good,  capital ;  none  better 
anywhere,  be  they  lazy  or  ambitious. 

First,  with  reasonable  observance  of  the  laws  of 
sanitation  and  hygiene,  whites  may  preserve  reasonably 
average  good  health  there,  with  no  greater  peril  of  malaria 
than  one  runs  to-day  in  many  sections  of  this  country  and 
less  danger  of  pulmonary  diseases  than  our  climate  is 
ever  threatening.  This  opinion,  I  well  know,  is  antag- 
onized by  Winston  Churchill,  but  as  against  him  stands 
the  fact  that  the  officials,  missionaries,  and  settlers  one 
meets  out  there,  men  and  women  resident  there  anywhere 
from  ten  to  twenty  years,  are  obviously  as  sturdy,  sound, 
and  vigorous  a  lot  on  the  average  as  one  meets  anywhere 
in  the  temperate  zone.  To  be  sure  the  little  churchyards 
are  not  empty  of  gravestones  —  nor  are  they  long  so  empty 
anywhere  else  in  the  world  where  men  have  enclosed  them. 
Lieutenant- Governor  Jackson,  C.  B.,  C.  M.  G.,  and  C.  W. 
Hobley,  C.  M.  G.,  of  British  East;  S.  C.  Tompkins,  C.  M. 
G.,  Chief  Secretary  of  Uganda,  James  Martin,  and  Father 
Laane,  all  there  resident  varying  periods  from  fifteen  to 
thirty  years,  are  types  of  soundness  and  of  physical  and 
mental  activity  any  man  of  their  years  would  be  glad  and 
proud  of.  Nor  are  the  men  here  cited  exceptions;  such 


IS   AFRICA   FOR  THE  WHITE   MAN?    225 

types  are  the  rule  —  possibly,  very  likely  in  fact,  because, 
precisely  as  Joaquin  Miller  once  explained  the  high  type  of 
the  average  California  Forty-niner  by  contending  that  "the 
cowards  never  started  and  the  weak  died  on  the  road,"  so 
do  few  feeble  of  body  or  soul  ever  ship  for  Central  African 
ports.  Of  course  they  (many  of  them)  have  " livers"; 
but,  if  you  ask  me,  I  believe  the  alleged  typical  "tropical 
liver"  is  less  due  to  conditions  climatic  than  to  too  fre- 
quent impalement  by  "a  peg  of  whiskey." 

Secondly,  for  that  hardy,  tireless,  stout-hearted  but 
always  restless  though  usually  indolent  class  or  type  of 
pioneers  of  the  sort  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the 
winning  of  all  North  America  from  savagery  —  the  path- 
finders across  the  treeless  plains;  the  trail-blazers  through 
forests,  where  danger,  if  not  death,  beset  them  at  every 
step;  the  venturers  in  frail  bark  craft  far  out  over  unknown 
and  hostile  waters;  the  trappers  and  the  traders;  the  men 
of  the  coon-skin  cap  and  squirrel  rifle;  the  women  of 
brawn  and  freckles  and  fustian  frocks;  the  folk  of  the  log 
cabin  and  the  little  patch  of  maize  and  potatoes  —  for  all 
such  Equatorial  Africa  is  a  paradise. 

Gone  are  they  all,  do  you  say?  Gone  with  the  times 
and  conditions  that  developed  them  ?  Never  will  they  be 
gone  so  long  as  blood  flows  in  Anglo-Saxon  veins  —  or  in 
French  or  German  for  that  matter, —  and  it's  a  lot  we  owe 
them  both.  Never  will  they  be  gone  so  long  as  bold 
spirits  are  able  to  find  wild  places  where  they  fancy  they 
find  a  larger  independence  and  personal  freedom  than 
the  teeming  centres  of  civilization  afford. 

There  their  beasts  may  stay  fat  the  year  round  on  the 
wild  feed;  no  forests  must  be  felled  to  build  and  plant; 
there  a  man  may  plant,  till,  or  harvest  every  day  in  the 


226  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

year  if  he  likes,  or,  if  he  be  lazy,  so  fecund  is  the  soil 
that  a  few  weeks'  work  in  the  fields  will  keep  a  family 
in  plenty  throughout  the  year;  there,  at  certain  favored 
altitudes,  orchards  may  be  seen  standing  amid  fields  of 
ripening  wheat,  oats,  and  corn,  wherein  apples,  plums, 
apricots,  etc.,  are  thriving  beside  oranges,  lemons,  bananas, 
figs,  pineapples,  pomegranates,  papayas,  while  hard  by 
gardens  grow  in  profusion  any  and  every  vegetable  it 
has  suited  the  owner's  fancy  to  plant ;  there,  in  otherwise 
favored  sections,  the  rubber  tree,  the  fibre  plant,  sisal, 
cocoa,  coffee,  and  a  score  of  other  plants  or  trees  yielding 
fourfold  the  crop  value  of  any  products  of  the  temperate 
zone,  may  be  cultivated;  there  all  about,  in  most  parts, 
wild  meat  is  to  be  had  for  the  shooting,  so  one  has  bought 
the  "  small  (settler's)  license."  Ease  is  there  for  the  easy- 
going, riches  for  the  industrious. 

And,  while  the  local  administrations  don't  yet  fully 
appreciate  it,  and  persist  in  maintaining  ordinances  in- 
imical to  poor  settlers,  nevertheless  it  is  precisely  people 
of  the  type  of  the  old  North  American  pioneers,  the  folk 
who  arrive  scant  of  belongings,  scantier  still  of  cash,  but 
rich  in  brawn  and  pluck,  the  sort  that  come  with  a  wife 
and  a  string  of  tow-headed  children,  all  workers  at  some- 
thing down  to  the  baby  in  arms,  that  can  be  relied  on  to 
push  out  north  and  south  from  the  Uganda  Railway  into 
the  wilds,  the  best  possible  advance  guard  for  the  peace- 
loving  plodders  who  quickly  follow  them  and  for  whom 
they  promptly  make  way  as  soon  as  the  country  is  per- 
manently pacified. 

The  man  or  family  with  a  few  thousands  should  not 
go  there,  for  such  are  usually  unsuited  to  life  in  the  wilds, 
too  often  untrained  in  labor  or  business.  The  country 


IS  AFRICA  FOR  THE  WHITE  MAN?    227 

has  too  many  such  already,  who  almost  invariably  fall 
hopelessly  before  the  temptation  of  acquiring  ten  times 
more  land  than  they  have  the  means  to  develop  and  a 
hundred  times  more  than  they  know  anything  about  the 
profitable  handling  of. 

And  even  the  worker  who  goes  there  will  need  to  be 
a  pioneer  in  a  double  sense,  in  his  system  as  well  as  in  his 
practice  —  for  there  to-day  no  white  man  turns  his  hand 
to  any  form  of  manual  labor,  once  he  has  instructed  the 
blacks  he  employs  in  their  tasks.  But  such  as  may  go 
there  with  the  will  and  spirit  of  the  men  of  the  West  and 
North,  may  live  in  ease  and  plenty  at  the  cost  of  no  more 
than  a  fifth  of  the  hard  work  our  own  early  pioneers  had 
to  expend  in  order  to  save  their  young  from  hunger  and 
shelter  them  from  cold. 

To  capitalists  Equatorial  Africa  offers  rich  opportun- 
ities, but  they  can  afford  and  always,  properly,  prefer 
to  investigate  for  themselves.  I  may  say,  however,  that, 
as  the  laws  now  stand,  for  operations  on  a  large  scale  one 
must,  to  be  safe,  figure  on  indentured  foreign  labor,  East 
Indian  or  off  the  Arabian  coast,  for  any  form  of  enforced 
native  labor  the  laws  rigidly  forbid  in  British  East  and 
in  Uganda. 

Their  shambas  (farms)  planted  and  tilled  by  their 
women  for  the  few  weeks  necessary  to  furnish  the  family 
a  season's  food  supply,  few  of  the  native  black  men  know 
a  harder  job  than  idling  about  their  grazing  herds  through- 
out the  day,  weapons  in  hand,  guarding  them  from  attack 
by  lion  or  leopard.  Richer  as  they  are  than  any  equally 
savage  races  of  history,  possessed  of  all  they  need,  no 
incentive  remains  to  voluntarily  engage  themselves  as 
laborers  except  as  they  become  seized  with  a  greed  for 


228  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

the  gauds  the  Indian  bazaars  display,  tempted,  but  not  to 
a  point  to  lead  them  to  part  with  their  cattle.  Thus  com- 
paratively few  are  ever  available  for  farm  or  other  service, 
and  fewer  still  stay  long  enough  to  become  fairly  adept 
at  such  work  as  they  may  have  undertaken.  And  yet 
idle  as  they  do,  thieve  as  they  may,  no  settler  owns  power 
effectively  to  correct  or  restrain  them. 

Indeed,  it  seemed  to  me  the  humanitarians  of  Exeter 
Hall  have  been  sowing  the  wind  as  they  never  would  dream 
of  doing  if  they  themselves  were  personally  familiar  with 
local  native  life  and  conditions,  and  themselves  had  to 
toss  helpless,  as  settlers,  on  the  tide  of  native  arrogance 
their  silly  clamor  for  larger  license  for  the  blacks  has 
raised,  a  tide  that  one  day  may  easily  break  into  a 
smother  of  open  revolt  that  will  take  a  good  bit  of 
quelling. 

To-day  no  white  man,  except  while  on  safari  remote 
from  any  Government  boma,  may  punish  a  rebellious  or 
lazy  black;  instead,  the  culprit  must  be  brought  to  the 
nearest  boma  for  trial.  Usually  it  is  a  sentence  to  im- 
prisonment he  gets  —  in  the  Nairobi  jail  or  the  Mombasa 
prison,  according  to  the  degree  of  his  offence,  either  about 
as  welcome  and  wholly  enjoyable  to  the  black  as  is  her 
two  weeks'  vacation  on  a  Sullivan  County  farm  to  a  Wall 
Street  Fluffy-Ruffles  typewriter.  And  this  when  no 
white  man  who  knows  the  country  will  contend  for  a 
second  that  any  Central  African  black  can  be  held  to  his 
work  except  by  occasional  flogging  with  the  kiboko  (whip), 
or  by  the  dread  of  it.  Argument,  kindness,  liberality 
don't  go  —  the  more  of  these  you  hand  out,  the  worse 
your  labor  situation  becomes.  But  pay  them  fairly,  feed 
them  well,  and  let  them  know  they  will  get  the  kiboko 


IS   AFRICA   FOR  THE  WHITE   MAN?    229 

if  they  shirk  or  steal,  and  no  better  labor  (at  the  price) 
could  be  desired. 

Cruel  ?  Inhuman  ?  Perhaps.  But  please  remember 
there  is  nothing  else  for  it  —  or  so  I  believe  it  will  in 
the  end  be  found  —  except  to  deal  with  the  blacks  the 
only  way  they  respect,  with  an  iron  hand,  or  to  abandon 
them  to  their  orgies  and  sacrifices,  such  orgies  and  sacri- 
fices as  no  story  that  could  be  told  in  print  could  give 
half  an  adequate  idea  of. 

But  all  these  labor  difficulties  I  expect  to  see  mend- 
ing shortly,  for  the  local  administrations  are  alive  to 
existing  embarrassments,  and  settlers  are  loudly  crying 
for  relief  the  Colonial  Office  will  have  to  grant  —  or 
send  more  troops.  However,  it  may  eventually  come 
about,  whether  by  some  form  of  coercion  or  by  innoculat- 
ing  him  with  new  wants,  only  when  and  as  the  black  is 
made  to  work  can  his  moral  uplift  begin  and  advance  to 
a  point  to  make  education  of  value  to  him. 

In  German  East  Africa  the  labor  situation  is  infinitely 
better,  natives  respectful  and  leaping  at  their  tasks  till 
the  day's  " stunt"  is  finished  —  all  because  Germany 
suffers  from  no  Exeter  Hall  type  of  misguided  philan- 
thropists. Nor  are  the  natives  in  German  territory 
inhumanely  treated,  either;  for  knowing  an  iron  heel  is 
ever  ready  for  their  necks  whenever  they  do  wrong,  they 
seldom  invite  its  application. 


XV 

RUBBERING   IN   UGANDA 

WHILE  now  become  in  many  manufactured  forms 
a  necessity,  rubber  is,  essentially,  a  luxury,  - 
first,  because  of  the  relatively  limited  supply  of 
the  raw  material  heretofore  available,  the  inaccessibility 
of  its  habitat,  and  the  wastefully  extravagant,  and  there- 
fore costly,  methods  of  gathering  it;  secondly,  because  it 
supplies  mankind  with  forms  of  protection,  ease,  and 
comfort  never  enjoyed  before  it  came  into  commercial 
use  and  for  which  no  substitute  has  ever  been  discovered, 
or,  if  we  may  believe  the  ablest  scientists  at  home  and 
abroad,  ever  will  be  discovered. 

And  yet  probably  not  one  out  of  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  those  who  use  the  80,000,000  pairs  of  rubber  shoes  and 
boots  our  factories  annually  produce,  thereby  gaining 
immunity  from  the  many  perils  of  wet  feet,  or  who  roll 
about  the  world  on  rubber  tires  at  such  ease  as  nothing 
but  rubber  can  give  to  man  awheel,  has  the  remotest 
idea  how  wild  rubber  is  won  and  converted  into  com- 
mercial form. 

It  was  my  privilege  during  the  lovely  equatorial  month 
of  November  to  spend  three  weeks  in  the  Mabira  forest 
of  the  Changwe  District  of  the  Uganda  Protectorate. 
This  forest  comprises  one  hundred  and  fifty  square  miles 
and  lies  about  twenty-five  miles  north  of  the  equator, 
extending  north  from  Victoria  Nyanza  along  the  west 
bank  of  the  Nile  from  that  river's  source  at  Ripon  Falls, 

230 


RUBBERING   IN   UGANDA          231 

where  it  issues  a  booming  torrent  from  the  lake,  to  within 
two  miles  of  the  lower  end  of  its  heaviest  rapids  at  Owen 
Falls. 

Returning  toward  my  headquarters  in  the  Ukamba 
Province  of  British  East  Africa  from  the  Uganda  Mara- 
thon Race  and  the  First  Uganda  Exhibition,  of  agri- 
cultural and  other  products,  craftsmen's  work,  etc.,  held 
at  Kampala,  it  was  my  good  luck  to  come  to  know  and 
gain  the  friendship  of  James  Martin,  for  many  years  and 
up  to  a  few  months  ago  His  Majesty's  Collector  of  the 
Entebbe  District,  a  man  whose  name,  in  nearly  every 
book  written  of  the  discovery  and  conquest  of  the  vast 
Central  African  region  extending  south  from  Khartoum 
to  Lake  Tanganyika  and  east  from  the  Congo  to  the 
Atlantic,  figures  conspicuously  in  connection  with  one 
gallant  deed  or  another,  one  tiresome,  stubborn,  in- 
domitable trek  or  another  to  the  relief  of  some  imperilled 
station  or  the  taking  of  some  strategical  point  in  advance 
of  the  Germans  or  French. 

Early  in  the  '8o's,  while  General  Matthews  was 
Prime  Minister  to  Bergash  Bin  Said,  Sultan  of  Zanzibar, 
James  Martin  served  as  his  aide-de-camp  and  commanded 
the  Sultan's  forces;  in  1883  it  was  he  who  guided  Joseph 
Thompson  from  Mombasa  to  the  head  of  the  Nile  at 
Ripon  Falls,  and  thus  was  one  of  the  first  five  white  men 
(Speke  and  Grant  and  Stanley  having  preceded  them) 
ever  to  set  eyes  on  the  bold  headlands,  emerald  waters, 
and  mirage  uplifted  islands  of  Victoria  Nyanza;  he  who, 
in  '84,  served  under  Sir  Harry  Johnson  in  the  negotia- 
tion of  the  first  treaties  with  the  chiefs  about  Mount 
Kilima  N'jaro;  he  who,  in  '87-8,  led  a  column  com- 
posed of  seven  hundred  armed  Swahilis  and  only  two 


232  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

other  white  men  from  Mombasa  to  and  across  the  Nile  to 
Stanley's  relief  at  the  time  of  his  rescue  of  Emin  Pasha, 
missing  Stanley  but  finding  four  thousand  of  the  armed 
ruffians  that  made  up  the  wreck  of  Emin's  army  subsisting 
themselves  by  raiding  and  rapine,  captured  and  brought 
them  to  the  coast,  and  saw  them  safely  shipped  back  to 
their  old  master  the  Khedive;  he  who,  in  1900,  signed  the 
first  treaty  with  King  Mwanga  that  gave  the  Imperial 
British  Company  a  hold  on  Uganda,  after  a  desperate 
caravan  journey  afoot  to  beat  the  Germans,  and  who,  later 
the  same  year,  escorted  Captain  Lugard  to  Mengo  and 
assisted  in  the  conclusion  of  a  final  treaty  establishing  a 
British  Protectorate.  He  is  a  bright  brown  eyed,  grizzled 
and  wrinkled  but  physically  and  mentally  keen  and  alert 
old  Africander,  with  a  voice  resonant  as  a  Baganda  war 
drum,  whom  all  wrong-doing  natives  have  learned  to 
dread  and  all  right-doing  have  learned  to  love,  and  who 
has  himself  made  more  thrilling  history  than  most  men 
ever  contrive  to  read. 

James  Martin  was  granted  his  official  pension  some 
years  before  his  normal  term  of  service  was  expired  and 
is  now  gathering  rubber  in  the  Mabira  forest. 

Shipmates  together  aboard  the  tight  little  Sybil,  from 
Entebbe,  via  Jinja,  to  Kisumu,  he  hazarded  and  I  was 
not  slow  to  accept  an  invitation  to  come  to  stay  with 
him  at  his  headquarters  in  the  forest. 

Arrived  at  Jinja  just  after  luncheon  of  a  fine  November 
day,  the  equatorial  sun  blazing  unblinking  out  of  a 
vault  of  cloudless  blue  but  the  air  crisp  and  bracing  with 
the  atmospheric  high  wine  of  a  4,ooo-foot  altitude,  we 
first  went  ashore  for  a  view  of  Ripon  Falls,  the  long- 


BWANA  MARTINI  "  —  JAMES  MARTIN 


THE  WAR  CAXOE  LEAVING  JINJA  FOR  BOGOXGO 
RIPONT  FALLS,  VIEWED  FROM  THE  EAST 


RUBBERING   IN   UGANDA  233 

sought  source  of  the  main  eastern  branch  of  the  great 
White  Nile,  and  a  view  of  the  town. 

Out  of  the  generously  broad  and  deep  bosom  of  this 
vast  inland  sea  whose  smiling  waters  brought  us  to 
Jinja,  for  centuries  untold  has  poured  the  vitalizing 
flood  that  made  the  valley  of  the  lower  Nile  the  richest 
known  granary  of  the  ancient  world,  a  prize  fought  for 
century  in  and  century  out,  straight  on  down  to  this 
generation,  from  times  long  past  even  before  the  first 
stone  was  laid  for  the  first  temple  ever  reared  to  Isis. 

Napoleon  Gulf,  from  the  north  end  of  which  the  Nile 
issues,  is  so  shut  in  by  islands  it  shows  no  entrance  from 
the  town  and  looks  to  be  a  lake;  and,  as  if  scrupulously 
greedy  of  hiding  the  source  of  its  great  wealth,  the  Nile 
has  craftily  hidden  its  head  in  a  deep,  sharp  bend  of  the 
gulf  where  one  might  easily  cruise  within  a  mile  of  it  and, 
but  for  its  thunderous  voice,  never  suspect  its  presence. 

Scarce  more  than  twenty  feet  in  height  of  actual  fall, 
Ripon  stretches  to  the  majestic  breadth  of  close  upon 
three  hundred  yards,  the  water  pouring  down  in  smooth, 
black,  oily  folds  into  a  hell  of  seething  torment  below,  save 
where,  at  intervals,  shrub-crested  islands  rise  out  of  the 
great  volcanic  dyke  which,  away  back  toward  the  be- 
ginnings of  time,  imprisoned  the  waters  of  the  lake,  and 
through  which  they  had  slowly  to  gnaw  their  way  to  give 
birth  to  the  Nile. 

Precisely  here  will  be  the  head  of  the  railway  which, 
ultimately,  will  connect  with  the  line  slowly  creeping  south 
from  Cairo  past  Khartoum.  Thus  by  means  of  steamer 
connection  with  the  north  terminus  of  the  line  pushing 
up  from  the  south  and  now  at  Broken  Hills  in  far  Northern 


234  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

Rhodesia,  will  the  "Cape  to  Cairo"  dream  of  Cecil 
Rhodes  be  realized. 

And  here,  midway  of  the  route  and  therefore  of  the 
continent,  Nature  has  conveniently  placed  power  ade- 
quate, I  should  think,  to  turn  all  the  wheels  of  several 
Pittsburgs, —  and  here  will  be  one  of  the  greatest  African 
cities  of  the  twenty-first  if  not  of  the  twentieth  century. 

A  lovelier  climate  one  may  not  ask  and  hope  to  find. 
Hot  it  is  in  the  sun  from  ten  to  three,  but  less  oppressive 
than  eighty-eight  degrees  in  the  shade  in  New  York, 
while  one  may  never  comfortably  sit  outdoors  at  night 
without  an  overcoat,  or  sleep  under  less  than  one  or  two 
blankets. 

To  be  sure  malarial  fevers  are  here,  —  but  so  were 
they  once,  in  far  more  virulent  form,  in  Panama.  The 
tsetse  fly  still  lurks  in  the  noisome  shade  of  jungle  and 
elephant  grass  along  the  lake,  loaded  with  the  deadly 
germs  of  sleeping  sickness,  but  now  nearly  all  sick  natives 
have  been  removed  to  islands  on  the  lake  and  the  healthy 
have  been  moved  back  of  the  known  danger  zone,  while 
near  lake  towns  and  stations  the  ground  has  been  cleared 
of  all  trees  and  undergrowth  and  the  flies  thereby  measur- 
ably, perhaps,  expelled  from  their  near  neighborhood. 

Aloft  of  the  falls  and  the  rapids  below  the  air  swarms 
with  fisher  fowl,  keen  after  the  finny  giants  that  are 
ever  leaping  in  the  rapids  or  boldly  mounting  at  the 
steep  falling  waters  of  the  falls  themselves,  while  hun- 
dreds of  crocodiles  lie,  apparently  basking  in  the  sun 
but  alert  for  victims,  on  islands  and  along  the  shores 
of  the  river. 

To-day  Jinja  contains  nothing  besides  the  dwellings 
and  offices  of  Sub-Commissioner  A.  G.  Boyle,  C.  M.  G., 


RUBBERING   IN   UGANDA  235 

and  staff  of  two  or  three  assistants,  the  post  and  telegraph 
office,  the  police  barracks,  and  a  small  native  village; 
but,  if  I  am  not  badly  mistaken,  before  this  article  can 
possibly  get  to  press  the  building  of  a  railway  at  least 
forty-five  miles  north  from  Jinja  to  Lake  Kioga,  a  very 
rich  and  densely  populated  district,  will  be  authorized 
from  London  and  work  actually  begun,  and  not  many 
months  after  another  strategic  railway  line  will  be  pushing 
west  from  Kioga  to  Lake  Albert  Nyanza  and  its  navigable 
water  route  toward  Khartoum. 

After  dinner  aboard  the  Sybil,  a  forty-foot  Baganda 
war  canoe  manned  by  twenty  natives  at  racing  pace 
ferried  us  the  mile  across  the  bay  to  Bogongo,  the  landing 
for  Mabira,  where  we  spent  the  night,  lulled  to  sleep  by 
Ripon's  mighty  voice,  toned  down  to  soft  cadence  by 
intervening  distance,  to  sleep  so  soundly  that  the  quick- 
mounting  equatorial  sun  was  half  up  behind  Buvuma 
Island  before  we  awoke  and  turned  out,  —  to  see  the 
mists  rising  from  Ripon's  torment  a  tall  cloud  of  yellowest 
gold,  sharply  outlined  against  its  dark  olive  green  Nile- 
side  background. 

Breakfast  over,  our  beds  and  luggage  were  quickly 
transferred  to  the  heads  of  sturdy  Baganda  porters,  sixty 
pounds  to  the  head,  and  we  started  in  two  rickshaws  on 
the  fourteen-mile  journey  to  Mabira. 

For  the  first  half  of  the  distance  the  path  was  heavy, 
undried  from  the  showers  of  the  previous  night,  for  the 
season  was  that  of  the  "little  rains,"  lasting  through 
November  and  December,  during  which  the  days  are 
bright  and  cloudless  but  every  night  there  is  a  downpour. 
So  on  we  slowly  plodded  through  black  mud,  shut  in 
between  solid  walls  of  fifteen-foot  elephant  grass  on  either 


236  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

hand,  out  of  which  we  sometimes  saw  rising  the  tops  of 
the  mimosa  and  of  candelabrum  cactus. 

Throughout  the  four-hour  journey  the  path  was  lined 
with  an  almost  solid  procession  of  natives,  travelling 
single  file  to  the  lake,  the  chiefs  striding  haughtily  along 
in  long,  black,  short-caped,  Spanish-like  cloaks,  each  fol- 
lowed by  a  band  of  musicians  beating  deep-booming 
drums,  twanging  at  their  not  unmusical  progenitor  of 
the  banjo,  blowing  tirelessly  into  shrill-shrieking  ivory 
flutes,  while  behind  the  band  trailed  their  half-naked 
chair  bearers  and  porters  loaded  with  their  wares. 

Stop  the  drumbeat  on  a  march  and  instantly  a  quick- 
moving  column  of  native  porters  becomes  a  dawdling 
mob ;  stop  their  songs  in  the  field  or  at  the  rickshaw  and 
at  once  a  group  of  cheery,  hard  workers  is  transformed 
into  slouching,  dull-faced  idlers. 

To  right  and  left  along  the  way  we  passed  small 
banana  plantations  and  groups  of  low  grass  huts  half 
hid  among  them,  the  monotony  of  their  dull  gray  walls 
only  relieved  by  bright  red  hanging  clusters  of  drying 
chillies  and  by  the  low,  black,  oval  doorways  that  give  the 
only  access  to  their  smoke-begrimed  interiors. 

About  these  hut  villages  women  were  idling,  or  digging 
in  their  adjacent  shambas.  Here  in  Uganda,  more 
modest  than  their  Kavirondo  sisters  about  Kisumu,  who 
never  are  clothed  more  heavily  than  was  Mother  Eve 
herself,  all  women  wear  from  morn  till  night  most  fetch- 
ing evening  dress  costume,  the  laso,  wound  tightly  about 
the  body  from  the  hips  to  just  above  the  outer  swell  of 
the  breasts  and  falling  in  by  no  means  ungraceful  folds 
to  the  feet,  loose  robes  of  any  —  many  —  brilliant  colors, 
usually  to  the  exposure  of  handsomely  turned  arms  and 


RUBBERING  IN   UGANDA  237 

shoulders  no  paler  wearer  of  evening  dress  would  be 
anything  but  proud  of. 

But  few  children  are  seen,  for  the  Baganda  are 
probably  the  most  conspicuous  living  exponents  of  race 
suicide.  Always  poor  breeders,  from  reasons  of  extreme 
immorality,  and  in  the  past  recruiting  their  race  by  raids 
and  capture  of  the  sturdier  women  of  Usoga,  now  that 
raiding  has  stopped  and  sleeping  sickness  has  come  among 
the  Baganda,  their  numbers  are  dwindling  rapidly. 

At  length  leaving  the  elephant  grass,  we  took  a  plunge 
into  and  through  a  corner  of  Mabira  forest,  by  a  good 
broad  road  made  as  an  outlet  to  Jinja  for  rubber  and 
timber,  a  forest  beautiful  as  could  be  conjured  by  the 
most  fertile  fancy  as  the  last  ideal  of  a  tropical  paradise. 
Giant  Fecus  towered  eighty  to  one  hundred  feet  in  height, 
and  slender,  graceful  Funtumnia  Elastica,  the  prime  rub- 
ber tree  here  indigenous,  leaped  fifty  feet  without  limb  or 
sprout,  straight  of  trunk  as  a  spear  shaft,  and  crested 
with  a  narrow  and  shallow  spread  of  boughs,  the  long, 
sharp-pointed  tips  of  whose  leaves,  silvered  by  sunlight 
filtering  through  the  taller  forest  canopy,  look  like  the 
gleaming  spear  points  of  a  waiting  Baganda  war  host. 
Portly,  straight-growing  mahogany  and  other  forest  tree 
growth  of  infinite  variety  are  there,  many  wound  from 
ground  to  top  with  mighty  parasitic  vines  of  a  sort  that, 
serpent-like  in  habit  as  in  appearance,  often  finish  by 
crushing  and  smothering  the  very  life  out  of  the  tree  itself, 
after  first  feeding  and  fattening  at  its  expense,  until  naught 
remains  of  its  once  magnificent  proportions  and  virile  life 
but  a  shrivelling,  rotting  core  within  the  thick  vine  folds 
that  have  wrought  its  ruin.  Everywhere  are  thick  festoons 
of  delicate  flowering  creepers  that,  high  aloft,  look  fine 


238  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

and  fragile  as  lacework,  broad-leaved  plantain-like  fern 
growths  nestling  tight  to  giant  boles  high  aloft,  and,  lastly, 
those  very  spirits  of  all  plant  life,  the  air-feeding  orchids, 
beautiful,  intangible  almost  as  a  spirit,  drooping  idly 
from  lofty  boughs.  It  is  a  forest  noisy  with  the  merry 
chatter  of  monkeys  and  brilliant  with  the  flitting  of  parrots, 
swarming  with  timid,  tiny  duyker  antelope  a  scant  eight- 
een inches  long,  a  forest  at  first  glance  all  smiles  and 
beauty  and  charm  for  every  sense,  and  yet  a  forest  whose 
dusky  recesses  are  as  sinister  of  oblivion  as  the  very  grave 
itself. 

Peril,  deadly  peril  to  life,  attends  your  every 
step.  Powerful-jawed  and  sharp-toothed  python  often 
eighteen  feet  long,  lie  along  low-lying  limbs,  watching 
for  quarry.  Green  and  black  mambas  fast  as  a  good 
pony  are  ever  slipping  about  through  the  undergrowth. 
Indolent  cobra  de  capello  and  puff  adders  are  always 
to  be  closely  watched  for,  as  too  lazy  even  to  try  to 
get  out  of  your  way,  their  bite  certain  death  in  a  few 
minutes  (if  instant  remedy  is  not  at  hand)  like  that  of 
the  mamba,  and  their  colors  blending  so  perfectly  with 
prevailing  forest  hues  that  rarely  do  any  but  natives  see 
them  until  right  upon  them.  Gigantic  hippos  at  night 
roam  far  back  from  the  still  pools  of  the  larger  streams 
they  pass  the  day  in.  At  any  turn  of  a  path  through  either 
forest  or  tall  elephant  grass  a  mob  of  buffalo  may  sweep 
down  upon  and  over  you,  though  usually  when  in  mobs 
and  unattacked  they  pass  you  by,  but  come  suddenly  on 
a  lone  bull,  or  wound  one,  and  usually  you  confront  a 
finish  fight,  with  a  mighty  beast  quick  of  foot  as  a  panther, 
armed  with  sharp  horns  often  of  more  than  four-foot 
spread.  Hideous  crocodiles,  hated  alike  of  man  and 


RUBBERING   IN   UGANDA  239 

beast  and  sparing  none,  the  giant  Nilotic  sort  close  to 
twenty  feet  long,  lie  near  swamp  or  stream  margins  so 
log-like  that  even  natives  have  stepped  upon  them  before 
seeing  them,  only  to  be  laid  helpless  before  the  cruel  jaws 
by  a  sweep  of  the  mighty  tail.  Lastly,  all  about  swarm 
crowds  of  mosquitoes  and  flies,  often  charged  with 
malarial  infection  that,  apparently,  all  must  ultimately 
fall  prey  to  who  escape  the  reptiles  and  the  beasts. 

A  very  hell  amidst  heaven  is  a  Nileside  forest,  and 
yet,  with  all  its  hazards,  a  place  where  white  men  may 
go  and  come  unscathed  for  years,  as  have  indeed  such 
men  as  Lieut.-Gov.  Jackson,  C.  B.,  C.  M.  G.  (now  of  B. 
E.  A.),  ex-H.  M.  Collector  James  Martin,  Chief  Secretary 
S.  C.  Tomkins,  C  M.  G.,  Sub-Commissioner  A.  G.  Boyle, 
C.  M.  G.,  and  others  of  their  fellow  empire  builders  in 
Equatorial  Africa,  if  only  they  know  their  way  about. 

Emerging  from  the  forest  toward  noon,  before  us  on 
three  close-clustering  hills  rising  three  or  four  hundred 
feet  out  of  the  valley,  stood  the  Mabira  headquarters 
buildings,  on  one  side  the  executive  offices,  on  another 
Mr.  Martin's  bungalow,  on  another  the  staff  quarters, 
while  down  to  the  left,  in  a  bend  of  forest  near  the  stream, 
nestled  the  factory  buildings,  where  the  crude  latex 
(milk)  is  washed,  coagulated,  and  boxed  in  hundred- 
pound  packages  for  shipment  to  market. 

The  most  modern  methods  are  here  employed,  tapping 
being  done  with  locally  devised  tools  considered  an  im- 
provement on  those  used  by  the  Para  rubber  planters 
of  Ceylon,  and  washing  and  coagulation  by  scientific 
methods,  which,  through  perfect  cleaning,  etc.,  adds 
largely  to  the  market  value  of  the  product. 

A  rubber  tree  is  nine  years  in  maturing  in  the  forest, 


24o  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

but  may  be  tapped  for  from  one-quarter  to  one-half  pound 
by  the  seventh  year;  after  eight  years,  by  full  tapping  top 
to  bottom  the  trees  should  yield  three-quarters  to  one  pound 
to  the  tree. 

The  hundred  and  fifty  square  miles  of  this  forest 
are  subdivided  into  blocks  of  four  square  miles,  with 
broad  paths  along  the  base  lines  between  blocks,  and 
many  narrow  tapping  paths  penetrating  each  block. 
Trees  are  carefully  searched  out  and  counted  in  each 
block  as  fast  as  surveyed,  until  now  five  hundred  thou- 
sand full-bearing  trees  have  been  tallied,  with  much  land 
still  unsearched,  and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  Nature- 
sown  seedlings  coming  on. 

Tapping  is  done  in  the  rainy  season,  which  here  means 
ten  tapping  months  in  the  year.  But  tapping  can  only 
be  done  when  trees  are  dry.  However,  since  nearly  all 
the  rain  falls  at  night,  tree  trunks  are  usually  dry  enough 
for  tapping  by  9  A.  M.  The  tapper  finishes  his  tapping 
shortly  after  midday,  bringing  his  day's  take  of  latex 
(of  anywhere  from  one  to  five  pounds)  to  his  local  station 
in  the  evening,  whence  it  is  carried  early  the  next  morning 
to  the  factory  at  headquarters. 

So  far  the  maximum  number  of  tappers  used  is  about 
five  hundred,  the  remainder  of  the  total  of  two  thousand 
blacks  here  employed  being  engaged  on  road  and  path 
making,  factory  labor,  clearing  land,  and  planting  Para 
rubber  or  other  crops,  and  on  the  completion  of  head- 
quarters and  station  buildings. 

Since  April,  1908,  about  twenty-five  tons  have  been 
shipped,  thus  assuring  a  total  yield  this  year  of  not  less 
than  seventy  tons,  worth  in  London  an  average  of  at 
least  four  shillings  per  pound  ($i)  or,  gross,  S8o,ooo,  which 


TAPPING  RUBBER  TREE  ix  MABIRA  FOREST 


JAMES  MARTIN  AND  HIS  RUBBER  TAPPING  TOOLS 
"CREPE"  RUBBER  JUST  OUT  OF  THE  ROLL  PRESS 


RUBBERING   IN   UGANDA  241 

as  nearly  as  I  can  estimate  is  produced  at  a  total  outlay, 
including  new  machinery,  buildings  and  freight  duties, 
and  administrative  expenses,  of  $60,000,  thus  leaving 
$20,000  as  profit  on  a  total  cash  investment  to  date  not 
much  in  excess  of  $100,000. 

Next  year,  the  third, with  installation  of  new  machinery, 
factory  and  station  construction,  road  making,  etc.,  all 
finished,  the  output  should  be  an  increase  of  fifty  per 
cent  to  one  hundred  per  cent  on  that  of  this  year  and 
expense  should  lessen  at  least  twenty-five  per  cent;  and 
I  can  see  no  reason  why  after  the  fourth  or  fifth  year  the 
forest  should  not  be  shipping  between  one  hundred  and 
fifty  and  two  hundred  tons  per  year. 

Moreover,  rubber  making  expense  is  sure  to  continue 
to  decrease  through  revenue  derived  from  fuel  and  timber 
sales.  The  forest  is  full  of  superb  woods,  especially  the 
muvule,  which  is  much  like  the  best  walnut  timber,  and 
Nysambia,  which  closely  resembles  good  beech  in  appear- 
ance and  quality.  While  remote  from  large  markets  for 
profitable  shipment  in  wholesale  quantities,  local  demand 
for  timber  and  fuel  can  probably  be  relied  on  for  profit 
sufficient  to  cover  a  part  of  the  cost  of  maintenance  of 
roads  and  paths  through  the  forest  and  to  the  lake. 

Monday  morning  there  arrived  at  the  factory  five 
hundred  pounds  of  latex  as  the  product  of  Saturday's 
tree  tapping,  a  thin,  milk-white  fluid  which  at  the  factory 
is  poured  into  big  tanks;  Tuesday,  seven  hundred  pounds, 
and  Wednesday,  nine  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  came. 

Given  average  good  quality  in  the  latex  extracted,  and 
here  it  produces  fifty  per  cent  in  net  rubber  of  its  gross 
weight,  the  profit  in  rubber  making  lies  in  its  rapid  and 
economical  washing,  by  which  it  is  cleaned  of  all  foreign 


IX   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

substances,  contained  resins,  etc.;  its  coagulation  and 
pressing  into  thin  sheets  or  ribbons  which  at  a  glance 
show  buyers  their  absolute  purity  in  net  rubber;  its  dry- 
ing, smoking,  and  packing  for  shipment. 

Oddly  here,  in  these  equatorial  African  jungles,  whence 
heretofore  rubber  has  never  been  gathered  and  made  except 
by  the  most  crude,  wasteful,  and  uncleanly  native  methods, 
and  while  over  ninety  per  cent  of  the  vast  Brazilian, 
Central  and  South  American  product  is  even  to  this  day. 
after  a  generation  of  experience,  still  taken  and  prepared 
for  market  by  unsuperintended  Indians  at  a  waste  in 
one  way  and  another  of  more  than  a  third  of  its  value, 
here  in  Central  Africa  the  last  resources  of  science  are 
employed  to  produce  chemically  pure  rubber  at  minimum 
cost. 

Generally  in  Africa  and  in  Central  and  South  America 
coagulation  of  the  latex  is  obtained  only  by  rubbing  lime 
juice  or  other  acid  along  the  incisions  hi  the  tree  trunks, 
or  by  catching  the  latex  in  cups  and  fetching  it  to  camp, 
dipping  broad,  thin,  paddle-shaped  blades  of  wood  in  the 
latex  and  holding  it  in  the  smoke  of  burning  palm  nuts 
until  coagulation  is  finished,  and  repeating  this  process 
until  a  thick  "ham"  is  so  accumulated.  In  both  pro- 
cesses no  contained  resin  is  eliminated,  much  bark,  dirt, 
and  even  stones  are  often  incorporated  in  the  mass,  and 
a  high  moisture  content  remains,  leaving  the  manufacturer 
always  buying  more  or  less  of  a  pig  in  a  poke  and  paying 
freight  on  a  lot  of  waste  material. 

But  a  new  era  opened  in  rubber  production  a  decade 
ago  with  the  demonstration  in  Ceylon  that  rubber  forests 
may  be  successfully  and  profitably  grown  from  artificially 
planted  seed.  And  as  from  year  to  year  more  capital  had 


RUBBERING   IN  UGANDA  143 

to  be  poured  into  these  plantations  to  insure  their  proper 
care  and  the  sound  maturity  of  the  trees,  chemistry  began 
to  be  ransacked  for  improved  methods  of  coagulation  and 
mechanical  art  for  better  tools  and  machinery  for  tapping 
the  trees  and  cleaning  and  curing  the  rubber,  with  the 
result  that  the  cultivated  Para  rubber  of  Ceylon  fetches 
in  the  London  market  from  eight  to  twenty-two  cents  a 
pound  more  than  the  best  fine  hard  Para  taken  from  wild 
trees. 

And  now  here  in  the  heart  of  the  Uganda  Protectorate, 
within  a  few  miles  of  the  scene  of  Stanley's  heaviest  fight- 
ing thirty  years  ago,  and  in  a  region  where  the  pacification 
of  the  country  has  only  been  accomplished  by  almost 
continuous  punitive  operations  by  the  stout-hearted  little 
staff  of  British  civil  and  military  officials  who,  with  a  hand- 
ful of  Soudanese  and  Sikhs,  have  taken  and  held  the  coun- 
try for  the  Crown,  —  operations  that  often  involved  heavy 
fighting,  and  have  continued  down  to  a  few  months  ago,  — 
here  in  the  equatorial  wilderness  the  best  Ceylon  methods 
have  been  materially  improved,  both  in  tapping  and 
coagulation;  better  tools  have  been  devised  for  stripping 
the  outer  bark  off  a  desired  incision  line,  a  hooked  blade 
that  cuts  an  even  depth  and  width,  and  a  set  of  spur-like 
roller  blades  for  quickly  running  along  incision  lines  and 
tapping  the  latex  cells,  whfle  prolonged  experiment  here 
by  Chemist  John  Hughes  has  at  last  yielded  a  down 
(chemical  formula)  which  coagulates  the  latex  almost 
instantaneously  at  a  cost  of  one-tenth  of  a  cent  per  pound. 

When  work  begins  in  the  morning  a  bucket  of  boiling 
water,  the  hotter  the  better,  containing  a  scant  ounce  of 
the  dawa,  is  poured  into  a  Nysambia  trough  made  on 
the  place,  three  feet  long,  about  eight  inches  wide,  and 


244  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

eight  inches  deep,  into  which  is  immediately  poured  five 
pints  of  latex.  Instantly  the  yellow  resins  and  foreign 
substances  are  eliminated  and  taken  up  in  suspension  by 
the  hot  water,  and  within  one  and  one-half  minutes  a 
thick  mass  of  clean  rubber  is  formed  which  is  carried  to 
and  passed  three  times  through  steam-driven  rolls  that 
press  out  the  moisture  and  give  it  form,  from  which  it 
comes  out  a  beautiful  milk-white  strip  of  what  the  market 
calls  "crope"  rubber,  ten  feet  long  and  six  inches  wide, 
deeply  stamped  with  diamond-shaped  figures,  the  centre 
of  each  diamond  thin,  the  outlines  thick,  that  at  a  little 
distance  make  the  ribbons  look  like  strips  of  lace, —  about 
two  and  one-third  pounds,  the  product  of  five  pints  of  latex. 

These  strips  are  hung  in  a  steam-heated  drying  room 
until  all  moisture  is  expelled,  then  matured  or  " cured" 
in  the  smoke  room,  in  the  creosote-laden  fumes  of  a  wood 
fire,  which  renders  it  proof  against  all  forms  of  attack  by 
bacteria  and  consequent  decomposition. 

From  the  smoke  room  the  strips  issue  of  the  palest 
amber  tint  and  are  folded  and  packed,  under  high  pressure, 
in  hundred-pound  boxes  for  shipment. 

Thus  Monday's  latex  is  by  the  next  succeeding  Mon- 
day converted  into  the  highest  type  of  commercial  rubber 
and  on  its  road  to  market,  where,  as  now  cleaned  and 
prepared,  the  product  of  these  wild  Funtumnia  Elastica 
trees  is  commanding  as  high  a  price  as  the  best  culti- 
vated Para. 

And  notwithstanding  prevailing  high  export  duties 
and  unreasonably  excessive  freight  rates  between  Mabira 
and  Mombasa,  I  can  see  no  reason  why  within  another 
year  this  product  should  not  be  laid  down  in  London  at  a 
cost  well  inside  of  forty  cents  per  pound. 


BAGAXDA  DANCERS 


RUBBERING   IN   UGANDA  245 

The  first  week  of  my  visit  I  spent  in  and  about  the 
factory  and  offices.  The  third  day,  the  big  native  chief 
of  Kioga  District  arrived,  attired  in  a  well-fitting  Norfolk 
jacket,  and  boasting  a  silver  watch  chain,  a  nickeled  police- 
man's whistle,  and  sandals  for  decorations,  followed  by 
his  ministers,  court  band,  and  a  hundred  nondescript 
followers.  Returning  from  the  Exhibition  at  Kampala, 
he  stopped  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  old  friend  Martin,  who 
employs  some  hundreds  of  his  subjects,  and  to  see  the 
wonders  of  the  new  rubber  factory. 

After  the  inspection  Mr.  Hughes  handed  him  a  bottle 
of  ammonia  to  smell,  as  a  sample  of  the  dawa  used  in 
coagulation.  At  the  first  whiff  he  nearly  threw  a  back 
somersault  and  then,  as  salve  for  his  wounded  dignity, 
proceeded  to  compel  every  last  one  of  his  followers,  down 
to  the  meanest  porters,  to  take  a  stiff  whiff  of  the  bottle, 
holding  the  noses  of  several  tight  to  its  mouth  until  they 
were  near  strangling. 

Of  evenings,  dining  in  a  bungalow  heavy  with  the 
sweet  scent  of  the  scores  of  rose  bushes  and  violet  beds 
that  hedge  it  round  about,  what  with  my  host's  fascinat- 
ing stories  of  stirring  incidents  of  the  early  days  of  Uganda 
empire  building,  delicious  curries  so  hot  they  would  make 
Hades  feel  like  a  skating  rink,  weird  Arab  dishes,  "mus- 
catis  "  and  "  pillous,"  that  would  conjure  new  joys  for 
the  most  blase  gourmet,  lettuce  and  water  cress  tender  as 
true  charity,  palate-tickling  combinations  of  tomatoes  and 
anchovy  paste,  fresh  pines  juicy  and  sweet  (almost)  as  the 
lips  you  best  love,  and  Chianti  that  makes  you  want  to 
kick  somebody's  hat  off,  Mabira  has  taken  permanent 
lodgement  among  the  dearest  treasures  of  my  memory. 

Indeed,  if,  after  death,  my  spirit  contrives  to  have 


246  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

quite  its  own  way,  more  than  likely  any  interested  will 
find  it  wandering  in  some  dusky  nook  or  bright  glade  of 
the  Mabira  forest,  near  to  Kiko's  smiling  face  and  not 
far  from  the  red  bungalow  on  the  hill. 

The  last  week  of  my  visit  to  Mabira  was  spent  in  a 
tour  of  the  forest  with  my  host  to  the  outlying  stations, 
from  Mbango,  the  headquarters,  to  Kiwala,  to  Wan- 
tarunta,  to  Lochfyne,  etc.,  stations  usually  eight  to  twelve 
miles  apart,  each  in  charge  of  a  canny  Scotch  forester, 
with  a  Goanese  clerk  and  timekeeper  and  Goanese  gang 
bosses. 

The  journey  was  very  comfortably  made,  the  host 
in  a  rickshaw  and  I  on  a  tall,  gray,  country-bred  pony, 
through  miles  of  beautiful  forest  cool  of  midday  and  chill 
of  evening,  through  patches  of  open  country  and  elephant 
grass  in  the  burning  sun,  across  swamps  ringed  round  with 
tall,  feathery  date  palms  and  wild  figs,  along  the  wide 
belt  of  papyrus  reeds  that  for  miles  fill  the  entire  channel 
and  valley  of  the  Seziwa  River,  the  Nile's  first  important 
tributary,  from  the  west  below  Ripon. 

And  whether  along  the  forty  miles  of  twelve-foot  main 
road  or  the  two  hundred  miles  of  base  line  and  still  nar- 
rower tapping  paths,  the  latter  sometimes  fifty  yards  apart 
and  sometimes  a  thousand,  according  to  the  plenty  or 
scarcity  of  tapable  trees,  ever  about  us  rose  the  tall  silver- 
gray  shafts  of  the  Funtumnia,  sometimes  standing  singly, 
sometimes  in  close  clusters  of  a  dozen  or  twenty,  each  bear- 
ing the  brown  scars  of  the  tapper's  knife. 

One  could  follow  the  running,  singing,  laughing  band 
of  Baganda  tappers  into  the  dusky  forest  glades  to  their 
work  if  his  wind  held  out  and  he  could  keep  his  neck 
from  entanglement  in  the  thick  network  of  vines  that 


RUBBERING   IN   UGANDA  247 

canopy  the  tapping  paths,  and  the  dread  of  snakes  — 
thicker  here  than  even  in  the  worst  dreams  of  the  most 
bibulous  —  out  of  his  mind,  but  to  photograph  them 
at  their  work  the  shades  forbid. 

The  station  buildings  are  usually  set  on  well-cleared 
hillcrests,  the  superintendents'  houses  neat  bungalows, 
roofed  with  tin,  whose  walls,  lintels,  and  door  and  window 
frames  are  made  of  the  bamboo-like  stems  of  the  elephant 
grass,  bound  together  with  strands  of  fibrous  bark,  quickly 
and  cheaply  made,  but  snug  and  cool. 

Of  evenings,  the  near-by  native  hut  villages  are  ringing 
with  the  shouts  and  laughter  and  all  sorts  of  merrymak- 
ing horse  play,  including  wrestling  matches  not  widely 
differing  from  or  inferior  to  the  Graeco-Roman  style. 

Not  content  with  Mabira's  native  wealth  hundreds  of 
acres  about  Mbango  and  the  outlying  stations  are  cleared 
and  planted  with  Para  and  Funtumnia,  with  sisal,  cocoa, 
coffee,  croton-oil  plant,  indigo,  citronella,  cassava,  ba- 
nanas, sweet  potatoes,  pines,  papayas,  —  crops  that,  in  the 
thick  black  loam  that  makes  all  Uganda  like  to  the  most 
luxuriant  garden,  yield  in  profits  per  acre  two  to  four 
times  that  realized  on  temperate- zone  farming. 

Nor  is  this  work  in  any  measure  groping  or  experi- 
ment, for  it  is  under  the  direction  of  Ernest  Brown,  for- 
merly an  assistant  in  the  botanical  gardens  of  Entebbe, 
where  for  years  careful  study  and  demonstration  have  been 
going  on  to  prove  what  commercially  valuable  tree  and 
plant  life  thrives  best  here.  There  it  has  been  proved  that, 
while  the  Castilloa  Elastica  of  Central  America  apparently 
matures  well  it  yields  no  latex;  that  Para  trees  4  years 
old  may  measure  at  3  feet  from  the  ground  up  to  18} 
inches,  and  i6j  at  6  feet;  7-year-old  trees  up  to  27^  inches 


248  IN  CLOSED   TERRITORY 

at  3  feet  and  23^  inches  at  6  feet,  and  at  the  latter  age 
may  be  relied  on  for  J  pound  to  the  tree,  while  after  9  years 
they  are  good  for  i  pound ;  that  sisal  produces  3  per  cent 
of  net  fibre  against  the  prime  yield  of  3?  per  cent  in 
German  East  African  coast  plantations,  where  sisal  plan- 
ters are  netting  profits  up  to  80  per  cent. 

These  are  dry  statistics,  perhaps,  at  first  glance,  but 
vital  to  rubber  and  fibre  manufacturers  and  users  of  our 
own  country,  vital  to  our  ever  swelling  surplus  capital  seek- 
ing safe  and  profitable  employment  abroad,  absorbing 
to  the  thousands  of  the  more  adventurous  of  our  younger 
generation,  sons  of  the  men  who  tackled  and  tamed  the 
trans- Missouri  region  and  whose  blood  cries  out  for 
chance  of  like  exploits  and  opportunities. 

For  myself  as  an  old  pioneer  of  wild  places,  and  recall- 
ing how  twenty-five  years  ago  we  used  to  hustle  and  com- 
pete for  arid  tracts  of  grazing  land  at  fifty  cents  to  two 
dollars  an  acre,  in  northwest  Texas  and  New  Mexico, 
lands  valueless  for  anything  but  grazing  and  that  would 
carry  no  more  than  one  head  of  cattle  to  fifteen  acres, 
how  the  farms  of  the  eastern  and  central  States  had  to 
be  hewn  out  of  solid  walls  of  forest  and  in  many  places 
the  soil  delved  for  among  rocks,  in  a  climate  where  a 
year's  work  had  to  be  crowded  into  half  a  year  to  keep  man 
and  beast  from  perishing  during  the  other  half,  it  is  tre- 
mendously impressive  to  see  in  British  East  Africa  lands 
that  will  easily  carry  a  head  of  cattle  to  each  acre  and  keep 
them  fat,  or,  here  in  Uganda,  millions  of  acres  under  no 
heavier  growth  than  elephant  grass  whose  every  square 
foot  is  rich  and  moist  as  the  soil  in  a  nursery  pot.  This 
land,  besides  its  high-priced  tropical  products,  grows  in  big 
yield  (at  one  point  or  another,  according  to  altitude  and 


RUBBERING   IN   UGANDA  249 

rainfall)  most  of  the  grains,  vegetables,  and  fruits  of  the 
temperate  zone.  These  lands  are  available  to  all  comers 
at  two  rupees  (sixty-six  cents)  the  acre,  often  at  less,  while 
native  labor  is  so  abundant  at  four  to  six  rupees  a  month 
that  no  white  man  here  ever  turns  a  finger  to  manual 
task, —  labor  rightly  handled  that  gives  the  employer 
quite  as  much  as  the  average  day  labor  at  home, —  while 
good  East  Indian  carpenters,  iron  workers,  wheelwrights, 
masons,  etc.,  are  available  at  fifty  to  sixty-five  rupees, 
or  sixteen  to  twenty-one  dollars,  per  month! 

To  be  sure  it  is  not  all  beer  and  skittles  here.  Freight 
rates  are  shockingly  exorbitant,  but  so  were  they  once  on 
the  Southern  Pacific  and  other  Western  roads;  land 
and  other  laws  are  crude  and  need  a  lot  of  mending; 
the  Colonial  Office  is  greedy  and  none  too  considerate 
of  the  settler.  But  against  all  this  the  local  administra- 
tions, here  and  in  British  East,  are  doing  all  for  the  de- 
velopment of  the  country  that  could  be  expected  while 
the  Colonial  Office  persists  in  entangling  all  local  official- 
dom in  a  bewildering  maze  of  East  Indian  bureaucratic 
red  tape,  and  settlers  are  sending  up  persistent  cries  for 
saner  laws,  simpler  official  forms,  cheaper  freights,  and 
more  rational  taxation  not  much  longer  to  be  denied 
even  by  the  mustiest  and  thriftiest  of  the  Crown's  colonial 
bureaucrats. 

My  visit  ended,  I  reached  Bogongo  a  day  ahead  of  the 
next  mail  steamer. 

Rising  at  dawn  and  taking  a  shotgun  for  birds  and 
a  heavy  .38  pistol  on  the  chance  of  a  crack  at  a  crocodile, 
I  started  in  my  host's  great  sixty-foot  canoe  for  a  cruise 
along  the  reeds  of  the  lake  shore  and  to  get  a  view  of 
Ripon  Falls  from  the  west. 


IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

Just  as  I  was  stepping  into  the  canoe,  near  at  hand  up- 
rose a  true  Nile  ibis  and  a  lovely,  lavender-hued,  crested 
crane.  Dropping  them  with  a  right  and  left,  I  sent 
them  to  the  house  for  approval,  and  three  hours  later  had 
the  ibis,  beautifully  roasted,  for  breakfast,  —  dark,  tender 
meat,  in  flavor  much  like  prairie  chicken,  —  while  the 
crane  was  condemned  for  everything  but  personal  beauty. 

As  we  glided  gently  along  through  alternating  patches 
of  lotus  pads,  reeds,  and  still  shallows,  never  have  I  seen 
predatory  life  active  in  such  varied  forms  and  on  such 
colossal  scale. 

Beneath  me  in  the  shallows  big  fish  were  darting 
savagely  after  the  little  ones.  Above,  a  sort  of  black 
and  white  kingfisher  poised  stationary,  with  chin  bent 
tight  to  chest,  sharp  beak  downpointed,  fierce  little  eyes 
hungrily  searching  the  depths  forty  or  fifty  feet  below  him, 
wings  beating  so  rapidly  to  maintain  his  poise  you  could 
scarce  see  them,  and  then  down  straight  at  his  quarry 
like  a  lump  of  lead  he  would  drop,  disappearing  entirely 
under  water  for  a  second  or  two,  to  rise  full  or  empty 
clawed,  according  to  hunter's  luck. 

Along  the  lake  shore  the  air  positively  swarmed  with 
insect  life,  chiefly  flies  individually  so  small  you  can 
scarce  see  them.  Often  in  mid-lake  for  miles  gray  to 
black  columns  may  be  seen  rising  several  hundred  feet 
from  the  water  that  look  like  the  smoke  of  freshly  stoked 
steamer  fires,  but  which  are  really  swarms  of  tiny  flies, 
which,  once  your  vessel  runs  into  them,  shut  out  all  view 
like  the  densest  fog,  and,  if  at  night,  extinguish  all  lights. 

All  about  me  on  the  lotus  pads  dainty  little  lemon- 
hued  birds  were  hopping  about  industriously  picking  for 
their  insect  breakfast,  while  aloft,  at  times,  the  air  was 


RUBBERING   IN   UGANDA  251 

fairly  black  with  swallows  darting  hither  and  yon  like 
the  aerial  corsairs  they  are,  to  whom  all  flies  are  prey. 
V-shaped  flights  of  black  divers  big  as  wild  geese  were  ever 
passing,  or  groups  of  them  standing  on  the  little  rock 
pinnacles  that  rise  a  few  feet  above  the  water  near  to  the 
falls,  wings  extended  "spread  eagle"  fashion  and  lazily 
flapping,  apparently  a  sort  of  "warming  up"  for  a  deep 
plunge  after  passing  fish. 

Distant,  narrow,  black  lines  on  the  water  that  dis- 
appeared as  I  advanced  were  the  heads  of  crocodiles,  too 
wary  to  permit  of  near  approach  by  boat. 

Returning  soaking  wet  from  a  half-mile  walk  through 
bush  and  long  grass,  from  the  old  Stanley  crossing  to 
Ripon,  to  get  a  snapshot  of  the  west  end  of  the  falls,  out 
in  the  lake  nearly  a  mile  from  shore  we  sighted  a  big 
hippo  bull,  floating,  full  length  exposed,  near  two  small 
jutting  rocks  covered  with  divers. 

I  tried  to  slip  in  for  a  close  camera  shot,  but  when 
within  a  hundred  yards  he  dropped  all  but  his  head  below 
water,  and  fearing  to  lose  him  altogether,  I  so  snapped 
him. 

Meantime,  the  canoe  having  drifted  to  within  some 
eighty  yards,  the  fancy  struck  me  to  have  a  try  at  him 
with  my  pistol,  the  upper  third  of  his  head  being  in 
full  view.  The  first  shot  was  a  trifle  too  high,  but  at 
the  second  I  thought  I  had  him,  —  we  plainly  heard  the 
"smash"  of  the  ball  upon  or  into  the  great  bony  head, 
my  boys  yelled  "Pigal  PigaV  (Hit!  Hit!),  and  with  a 
snort  he  rose  full  body  ,out  of  water  and  plunged  down, 
leaving  a  narrow  red  ribbon  of  blood  twining  among  the 
bubbles. 

Then  for  about  an  hour  he  rose  at  minute  to  half- 


252  IN  CLOSED   TERRITORY 

minute  intervals  for  air,  but  only  for  an  instant's  exposure 
of  the  tips  of  the  nostrils,  which,  try  hard  as  I  could,  gave 
me  no  chance  of  landing  another  shot,  sometimes  driving 
to  right  and  left  in  his  dives,  again  in  circles,  too  much 
dazed  to  follow  usual  wounded  hippo  tactics  of  a  rush 
for  shore  and  the  reeds. 

My  only  chance  of  hitting  him  again  lay  in  a  square 
charge  of  the  boat,  which  often  the  hippo  makes,  with 
full  head  exposure  as  he  rushes  open-mouthed  and  at  an 
eight-knot  pace  for  a  crunch  of  your  boat  gun\vale. 
If  on  such  a  rush  one  waits  until  he  is  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  boat,  a  deadly  shot  is  not  difficult.  But  no  such 
charge  did  he  make.  Once  he  rose  within  twenty  feet 
of  us,  but  apparently  by  accident,  for  it  was  only  for  a 
second's  exposure  of  great  nostrils  that  looked  like  the 
business  end  of  a  young  double-barrelled  cannon.  Nor 
were  the  next  few  seconds,  —  until,  having  passed  squarely 
beneath  us,  he  rose  two  hundred  feet  on  the  other  side 
of  us,  —  overcharged  with  comfort,  for  one  of  the  worst 
things  a  hippo  can  hand  you  on  Nyanza  is  to  rise  beneath 
the  canoe,  usually  smashing  it  and  upsetting  you  into 
water  swarming  with  crocodiles  as  the  air  is  with  fowl. 

After  an  hour  of  these  frequent  rises  and  dives  he 
disappeared,  dead  I  am  forced  to  believe,  though,  not- 
withstanding I  had  the  water  watched  till  night,  he  did 
not  rise.  Of  course  since  the  affair  finished  a  scant  half- 
mile  above  the  falls,  an  undercurrent  may  have  swept 
him  down,  —  or,  maybe,  hippo  have  the  "funnybone" 
in  the  head  and  it  was  that  I  hit,  for  rarely  will  a  head  shot 
from  the  heaviest  rifle  kill  a  hippo  unless  driven  straight 
into  the  brain  through  nostril  or  behind  the  eye,  and  to 


RUBBERING   IN   UGANDA          253 

have  so  scored  with  a  pistol  at  the  distance  is  rather  too 
much  to  flatter  oneself. 

However,  all  this  happened  only  yesterday,  the  yes- 
terday of  this  writing,  and  perhaps  a  wire  may  bring  me 
in  the  next  few  days  news  of  a  trophy  retrieved  worth 
while,  for  Provincial  Commissioner  A.  G.  Boyle,  C.  M.  G., 
of  Jinja,  kindly  promised  to  have  his  Askaris  watch  and 
search  waters  and  shores. 


XVI 

THE  HAZARDS   OF  THE   GAME 

LIKE  most  other  things,  sport  is  essentially  relative. 
Doubtless  all  true  sportsmen  will  agree  that  the 
greater  the  hazard  of  limb  and  life  one  incurs  in 
any  sport,  the  greater,  the  more  fascinating,  the  sport 
becomes. 

Who  that  has  ever  battled  with  an  outlaw  bronco 
or  held  a  headstrong,  half-broken  hunter  to  his  work 
across  stiff  country,  could  drive  a  trotting  race  and 
find  it  better  than  tame?  Who  that  has  run  the  Gati- 
neau's  boiling  rapids  and  thundering  chutes  in  a  canoe 
could  get  much  of  a  thrill  paddling  about  Lake  Placid, 
wondering  if  he  is  ever  going  to  get  a  "bite"?  What 
scarred  centre  rush,  hero  of  a  score  of  terrible  tussles 
that  sap  the  last  ounce  of  nerve  and  muscle  in  a  man, 
could  find  a  satisfactory -quickening  of  the  pulse  in  a  game 
of  ninepins  ?  Who  that  has  known  the  fierce  joy  of  pulling 
his  very  heart  out  on  his  Varsity  crew  could  long  abide 
a  house-boat  ?  Who  that  has  held  the  wheel  of  a  ninety- 
horse-power  racing  car  through  the  thrills  and  perils  of  a 
long-distance  race,  every  sense  alert  and  strained  to  the 
breaking  point  from  start  to  finish,  could  get  his  own 
consent  to  ride  a  gymkhana  donkey  race  ? 

And,  judged  by  such  standard,  compared  to  the  best 
big  game  shooting  North  or  South  America  ever  afforded, 
that  of  Africa  towers  aloft  in  all  the  scornful  majesty 
characteristic  of  a  "tablestake"  poker  player  watching 

254 


THE  HAZARDS   OF  THE  GAME     255 

a  game  of  "craps."  Not  only  will  the  African  rhino, 
elephant,  buffalo,  and  lion  carry  comfortably  quite  as 
much  lead  as  even  the  grizzly  bear,  and  the  two  former 
much  more,  but  they  are  far  quicker  to  charge  and  faster 
of  pace.  The  grizzly  you  can  outfoot, —  if  you  can't  kill 
him, —  by  running  transversely  to  the  slope  of  a  steep 
hill.  But  even  on  a  good  Basuto  or  Somali  pony  you 
are  not  safe  against  the  charge  of  a  lion  with  less  than 
forty  yards'  start, —  and  not  in  one  out  of  a  hundred  lion 
encounters  does  the  sportsman  have  a  horse  beneath  him 
or  at  hand. 

The  habitat  of  the  lion  is  —  wherever  his  subjects, 
the  game,  are  thickest,  on  the  low  bush  veldt  near  the 
coast,  on  the  high  veldt  of  the  interior.  He  is  more  than 
the  King  of  Beasts,  for  he  is  far  and  away  the  first  true 
gentleman  of  his  court.  As  a  rule  he  seeks  no  trouble 
with  man,  and  usually  he  will  do  all  that  could  possibly 
comport  with  his  kingly  dignity  to  avoid  it.  Often  he 
will  leave  his  feast  on  a  fresh  kill  at  man's  approach. 
Seldom  if  ever  do  lions  become  man-eaters,  deliberate, 
predatory  raiders  of  villages  or  camps  for  human  food, 
until  so  old  they  have  found  difficulty  in  taking  even 
zebra .  their  easiest  prey,  and  through  stress  of  hunger  or 
by  some  unhappy  chance  have  learned  that  man  is  easier 
and  perhaps  (who  but  lion  know?)  tenderer  still.  But 
once  he  gets  the  knowledge  and  the  taste,  woe  to  belated 
night  travellers  through  his  bailiwick,  woe  to  villagers  or 
night  campers  unprotected  by  a  thorn  zareba  (fence)  he 
cannot  leap,  for  so  softly  and  silently  does  he  steal  upon 
his  victim,  so  crushing  deadly  is  his  grip  upon  the  neck, 
so  mighty  his  strength  in  tossing  his  kill  across  his  shoulders 
and  slipping  easily  away  with  it,  that  very  often  naught 


256  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

of  his  raid  is  known  until  those  sleeping  near  awake  to 
find  an  empty  bed,  and  blood  along  a  spoor  which  plainly 
shows  he  has  bounded  away  with  their  comrade  in  mighty 
leaps,  free  and  light  as  those  of  a  cat  crunching  a  mouse. 

So  not  long  ago  on  the  Guaso  Nyiro  died  young 
McClellan.  After  a  good  day's  sport  he  retired,  alone,  to 
his  bed,  surrounded  by  the  tents  of  his  escort  and  the 
sleeping  forms  of  his  porters.  Twenty  feet  in  front  of  the 
tent  blazed  a  great  camp  fire.  Back  and  forth  through 
the  centre  of  the  camp  paced  an  Askari  sentry,  rifle  on 
shoulder.  Along  came  a  hungry  man-eater.  While  un- 
seen until  too  late,  the  facts  proved  that  he  must  have 
thoroughly  prospected  the  camp,  for  along  its  outskirts 
lay  easy  picking,  the  sleeping  natives.  But,  perhaps 
surfeited  with  black  meat,  or  inspired  by  the  pride  of  his 
royal  blood  to  disdain  it  while  rarer  spoil  lay  near,  straight 
to  the  Bwana's  tent  he  penetrated  and  into  it  entered,  all 
so  cunningly  that  his  presence  was  unsuspected  until. 
bounding  off  with  McClellan's  limp  body  across  his 
shoulder,  and  partly  blinded  by  the  firelight,  he  cannoned 
into  and  bowled  over  the  Askari ;  and  when  the  next  day 
the  headman  of  McClellan's  party  brought  to  the  scene 
Deputy  Commissioner  Collyer  from  his  near-by  station  of 
Rumuruti,  the  body  was  found  near  camp,  unmarked 
save  for  the  mangled  and  broken  neck.  Doubtless  the 
Askaris'  random  shots  had  frightened  the  lion  away,  and 
cries  and  drum  beatings  kept  up  all  night  by  the  natives 
had  served  to  prevent  his  return. 

Nor  was  it  more  than  a  few  weeks  later,  when  Deputy 
Commissioner  Collyer  was  on  safari  in  the  same  neigh- 
borhood, that  a  lion  entered  his  camp,  slipped  his  paw 
beneath  a  tent  and  caught  a  Kikuyu  by  the  ear,  tearing 


THE   HAZARDS   OF  THE  GAME      257 

away  the  lobe  and  a  part  of  his  cheek.  The  yells  of  the 
victim  stirred  the  camp  to  shooting  and  shrieking  that 
made  Leo  retire.  But  he  scored  all  the  same, —  a  few 
days  later  the  Kikuyu  died  of  shock. 

While  ranked  along  with  his  third  cousin,  the  leopard, 
as  vermin  in  even  the  closest  protected  sections  of  Africa, 
as  a  marauding  outlaw  all  comers  are  free  to  shoot  with- 
out a  license,  nevertheless,  in  his  prime  he  is  a  foeman 
well  worthy  of  the  best  man  the  love  of  sport  brings  against 
him.  Come  face  to  face  with  him  at  three  to  ten  paces 
at  the  turning  of  a  bush,  pass  in  the  tall  grass  within  a 
few  feet  of  a  hidden  lioness  and  her  cherished  tawny 
pups,  pursue  or  wound  him  when  he  is  temperately  retir- 
ing, usually  at  slow  and  dignified  pace,  from  the  proffered 
gage  of  your  presence,  and  it  is  far  worse  than  an  even 
chance  that  you  confront  a  case  of  kill  or  be  killed ;  for, 
once  he  charges,  usually  it  is  a  battle  to  the  death,  with 
odds  against  you  even  though  he  receives  a  mortal  wound 
before, —  as  in  his  customary  tactics, —  his  claws  are  in 
your  shoulder  and  his  white  fangs  leaping  at  your  throat. 
For  while  few  sportsmen  are  killed  outright,  on  the  spot, 
by  lion  in  these  days  of  high  power  rifles,  once  a  lion 
has  mauled  you  with  his  carrion-tearing  teeth  or  claws, 
nothing  can  prevent  death  of  blood-poisoning  but  the  im- 
mediate and  most  thorough  disinfection  of  the  wounds, 
or,  if  this  is  lacking,  an  early  amputation,  where  a  surgeon 
can  be  reached. 

As  chiefly  a  night  prowler,  like  all  predatory  savages, 
biped  and  quadruped  alike,  it  is  just  hunter's  luck  when 
you  get  a  chance  at  a  lion. 

Of  six  months  spent  in  the  plains  and  bush  of  British 
East  Africa,  a  full  forty  days,  all  told,  I  occupied  ex- 


258  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

clusively  hunting  lion  in  country  where  they  had  been 
thick  about  our  camp  every  night,  often  when  they  had 
sought  entry  to  our  boma,  twice  when  they  had  made 
kills  within  a  few  yards  of  where  we  slept,  without  yet 
getting  sight  of  one. 

I  have  followed  their  fresh  spoor  through  long  grass 
and  mimosa  thickets  where  one  could  not  see  more  than 
the  length  of  a  gun  barrel ;  trailed  them  into  their  very 
caves  and  stood,  expectant,  while  my  shikaris  tried  to 
stone  them  out  or  taunt  them  to  action  with  buzzing 
Somali  expletives;  risen  before  dawn,  forded  crocodile- 
infested  rivers  in  the  dark,  stumbled  through  bush  and 
hidden  bowlders  to  some  den  marked  down  the  day  before, 
and  there  lain  concealed  until  an  hour  or  more  after  dawn 
in  hope  of  sighting  them  on  return  from  their  night's  foray, 
but  all  without  avail. 

At  first  I  found  it  most  nerve-racking  work,  but  now 
I  don't  seem  to  mind,  whether  because  I'm  getting  used 
to  it  or  because  repeated  failures  have  left  me  skeptical  of 
each  new  start,  I  don't  know.  Indeed,  I  was  beginning 
to  harbor  fears  that,  like  Tartarin  de  Tarascon,  my  lion- 
slaying  must  ever  remain  merely  a  hyper-heroic  figment  of 
my  dreams,  until  a  few  days  ago  I  learned  that  Ronan 
Wallaston  Humphrey,  the  District  Commissioner  at 
Machakos  Fort,  twenty-five  miles  from  Juja  Farm,  where 
I  am  a  guest,  a  keen  sportsman  who  has  shot  about  every- 
thing else,  was  in  the  country  eight  years  before  he  saw 
his  first  lion;  and  that  another  equally  keen  sportsman, 
Chief  Secretary  S.  C.  Tomkins,  C.  M.  G.,  of  Uganda, 
here  twelve  years,  has  never  yet  seen  a  lion  except  from 
a  train.  So  that,  while  I  can  as  little  count  on  eight  more 
months  in  the  lion  country  as,  at  my  age,  I  can  venture 


THE   HAZARDS  OF  THE   GAME     259 

to  count  upon  eight  more  years  on  earth,  my  hopes  have 
revived. 

And  why,  indeed,  should  not  one  hope,  when,  in  the 
short  space  of  eighteen  months,  no  less  than  twenty  men, 
sportsmen  or  settlers  all,  have  been  killed  or  badly  mauled 
by  lion  within  a  radius  of  thirty  miles  of  Juja  Farm,  and 
twelve  lion  have  been  killed  within  three  miles  of  the 
farm  in  the  same  time  ? 

The  Lucas  tragedy  was  characteristic.  Lucas  and 
Goldfinch  were  partners  in  a  farm  on  the  western  slopes 
of  Donya  Sabouk,  ten  miles  from  Juja.  One  day  the 
pair  jumped  a  lion,  in  tall  grass  near  the  Athi  River, 
which  retired  at  their  approach.  After  him  they  raced 
on  ponies,  Goldfinch  in  the  lead.  But  Leo's  retreat  was 
only  a  stroke  of  strategy, —  he  sidestepped  them  into 
concealing  long  grass,  only  to  leap  upon  Goldfinch  and 
his  horse  as  they  passed,  sinking  his  right  fore  claws  in  the 
pony's  right  flank,  his  left  in  Goldfinch's  left  thigh,  his 
rear  claws  tearing  at  the  pony's  hind  quarter. 

The  mixup  was  such  that  Goldfinch  could  not  bring 
his  gun  to  bear  on  the  lion  and  that  Lucas  did  not  dare 
to  shoot  from  the  saddle,  so,  jumping  from  his  pony, 
Lucas  ran  forward  to  his  partner's  aid.  But  their  watch- 
ful enemy  was  not  so  easily  to  be  taken  in  flank,  for  before 
Lucas  got  to  a  position  where  he  could  safely  fire,  the 
lion  leaped  upon  him  and  began  rending  him.  No  more 
was  he  down,  however,  before  Goldfinch,  badly  torn 
though  he  was  of  the  lion's  claws,  slipped  from  his  horse, 
ran  in,  and  gave  the  lion  a  shot  through  the  heart  that 
laid  him  dead. 

Yet,  while  scarce  a  minute  had  elapsed  since  he  firs-t 
struck  Lucas,  Leo  had  taken  his  toll ;  Lucas  was  so  badly 


260  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

mauled  that,  what  with  the  delay  in  getting  him  into  the 
Nairobi  Hospital  and  the  severity  of  the  wounds,  the 
surgeons  found  naught  but  an  amputation  could  save 
his  life.  This  Lucas  stubbornly  refused, —  vowed  he 
would  rather  die  than  live  as  a  maimed  man. 

And  die  a  few  days  later  he  did, —  in  a  manner  typical 
of  his  dauntless  soul.  The  evening  the  surgeons  told 
him  he  could  not  last  the  night  out,  to  his  bedside  he 
summoned  two  of  his  closest  pals,  "Daddy"  Longworth 
and  another.  And  there  throughout  the  night  they  sat, 
Lucas  bolstered  on  pillows,  drinking  whiskey  and  soda; 
Lucas  toasting  them  a  long  life,  they  him  a  Happy  Hunt- 
ing Ground  in  the  next  \vorld,  until,  just  as  the  first  pale 
flush  of  the  brief  tropical  dawn  began  to  dim  the  candles, 
the  two  watchers  suddenly  realized  they  were  looking 
into  the  face  of  a  dead  friend.  For  Lucas  it  was  about 
the  nearest  approach  conceivable  to  active  participation 
in  his  own  wake. 

In  the  history  of  East  African  lion  shooting,  nothing 
is  more  heroic  than  the  conduct  of  the  Somali  shikaris. 
Far  and  away  the  finest  native  race  of  this  continent, 
with  a  strong  strain  of  Arab  blood,  light  of  complexion, 
wavy-haired,  often  with  little  of  negroid  cast  of  feature, 
tall  and  slender,  scrupulously  clean  of  dress  and  habits, 
Mohammedans  all,  at  home  nomads  with  their  flocks 
and  herds,  abroad  the  Jews  of  the  Dark  Continent, 
traders  wandering  in  small  bands  from  one  tribe  to  another 
between  the  twentieth  degree  of  north  latitude  and  the 
fifteenth  degree  south,  the  Somalis  are  faithful  and  true 
to  their  salt.  No  sahib  who  treats  them  half  decently 
is  likely  to  find  cause  of  complaint  of  their  fidelity, — 


THE   HAZARDS  OF  THE  GAME     261 

they  are  as  ready  to  die  for  him  as  most  others  are  ready 
to  desert  where  peril  threatens. 

No  one  can  know  the  Somali  and  not  be  inspired  by 
a  profound  admiration  for  his  religion.  For  its  exem- 
plars, Mohammedanism  has  done  three  things  that,  not 
to  make  comparison,  let  us  say  uplifts  it  high  among 
religious  cults;  it  makes  an  absolutely  temperate  people, 
who  never  know  the  taste  of  liquor  in  any  form;  instead 
of  filling  them  with  a  dread  of  death,  it  not  only  makes 
them  reckless  of  it  but  inspires  them  to  seek  it  in  battle, 
as  divine  warrant  of  everlasting  abode  beside  the  sweetest 
waters  and  beneath  the  best-loved  shade  of  the  most 
fecund  date  palms  of  Allah's  celestial  abode;  it  makes  a 
scrupulously  devout  people  who,  five  times  a  day,  remove 
their  sandals,  bathe  feet  and  hands,  spread  rug  or  wrap, 
no  matter  what  the  presence,  and,  facing  Mecca,  for  ten 
or  fifteen  minutes  engage  in  prayer, —  so  pray  a  few  yards 
from  your  camp  fire,  in  a  crowded  street,  upon  a  thronged 
railway  platform,  adoring,  rapt,  oblivious  to  the  world, 
its  joys  and  sorrows,  its  benefits  and  threats,  first  standing, 
then  kneeling,  then  bending  and  touching  the  forehead  to 
the  earth. 

Cultsmen  these  of  a  faith  no  intruding  propagandist 
can  win  them  from.  Indeed,  I  am  told  by  a  recent  high 
official  of  the  National  Bank  of  India's  branch  at  Aden 
that  a  friend  of  his,  a  missionary  of  the  Church  of  Scot- 
land, a  physician  missionary  at  that,  a  man  of  the  highest 
attainments,  and  of  untiring  devotion  to  his  task,  for 
nine  years  treated  an  average  of  twelve  thousand  Mo- 
hammedans a  year,  healing  their  wounds,  relieving  their 
pains,  on  the  sole  condition  that  each  should  attend  his 


262  IN   CLOSED   TERRITORY 

services  and  listen  to  his  pleas.  Scrupulously  they  kept 
faith,  come  they  did  and  listened, —  but,  after  nine  years 
the  facts  forced  him  to  admit  frankly  he  had  not  won  a 
single  convert  to  his  creed. 

All  this  may  seem  a  digression  from  my  subject,  but 
nevertheless,  to  the  missionary,  the  "benighted"  blacks 
are  the  biggest  game  this  Dark  Continent  affords. 

Only  a  few  days  ago,  with  Djama  Aout  and  Hassan 
Yusef,  Somali  shikaris,  I  followed  the  absolutely  fresh 
spoor  of  a  lion  to  the  mouth  of  a  cave  into  which  the  spoor 
entered,  a  cave  high  enough  of  roof  to  admit  of  entry 
of  two  or  three  men,  standing,  a  distance  of  probably 
eighty  feet.  On  into  it  both  Somalis  started,  and  when 
I  protested  their  folly,  they  simply  replied:  "Inshallah 
(God  willing),  we  come  back."  And  into  the  cave  they 
went,  one  carrying  my  second  rifle,  the  other  nothing 
but  his  skinning  knife,  in  as  far  as  they  could  get,  tossed 
stones  into  the  dark  recesses  beyond  and  in  every  way 
invited  a  charge,  which,  luckily  for  them,  was  not  made. 

The  experience  last  February  on  the  Theika,  eighteen 
miles  north  of  Juja,  of  Geoffry  Charles  Buxton  typified 
the  wonderfully  fine  fibre  of  the  Somali, —  and,  inci- 
dentally, his  own.  One  morning  he  left  camp  at  dawn 
with  his  Somali  shikari,  he  himself  carrying  a  double- 
barrelled  .577  cordite  rifle,  his  shikari  a  Mauser.  When 
out  from  the  camp  no  more  than  half  an  hour  he  sighted 
a  big  black-mane  about  a  hundred  yards  away,  leisurely 
retiring  from  his  approach.  Bush  so  thick  and  grass  so 
high  he  could  not  get  a  good  opening  for  a  shot,  Buxton 
raced  in  pursuit  until  he  came  within  fifty  yards  and, 
himself  winded,  halted  for  a  shot.  At  the  same  instant 
Leo,  evidently  decided  he  had  drawn  sufficiently  on  the 


THE  HAZARDS  OF  THE  GAME     263 

reserves  of  his  patience,  stopped  and  turned,  tail  angrily 
lashing,  head  up,  and  eyes  blazing  his  royal  wrath. 

With  a  steady  aim  Buxton  sent  a  great,  heavy  .577 
ball  crashing  into  his  quarry,  a  shot  that  entered  just 
inside  the  front  of  the  shoulder,  ranged  through  the  lion 
from  end  to  end,  and  dropped  him  quivering  in  the  grass. 
Had  Buxton  left  him,  the  lion  would  have  been  dead  in 
ten  of  fifteen  minutes,  but,  notwithstanding  he  knew  he 
had  delivered  a  mortal  wound,  keen  he  should  not  lose 
his  trophy,  Buxton  fired  again,  and,  with  little  to  see  of 
the  recumbent  body,  missed.  This  last  shot,  however, 
proved  quite  enough  for  Leo  and  nearly  too  much  for 
Buxton;  it  roused  the  dying  jungle  monarch  to  action 
—  he  rose  and  charged. 

And  at  this  crisis,  while  hurriedly  throwing  a  spare 
shell  into  his  empty  gun,  Buxton  observed  that  its  stock 
(broken  shortly  before  in  an  encounter  with  an  elephant 
and  mended  with  string  wrappings)  had  become  so  loose 
it  was  unserviceable,  a  dilemma  to  try  the  nerve  of  the 
steadiest  man.  However,  lacking  time  to  grab  his  spare 
gun  from  the  Somali,  as  the  lion  rose  at  him,  holding  the 
.577  loose  alongside  him,  Buxton  fired, —  and,  naturally, 
missed. 

Then  in  another  instant  the  dauntless  pair  were  at 
death  grips. 

Sure  the  lion  was  already  carrying  a  wound  he  could 
not  possibly  long  survive  and  that  he  must  win  the  fight 
if  only  he  could  save  himself  for  a  few  moments,  knowing 
his  only  hope  lay  in  keeping  his  feet  and  holding  the  lion 
off,  as  they  came  together  Buxton  rammed  his  empty 
rifle  barrel  down  the  lion's  throat,  down  until  three-fourths 
its  length  was  within  the  mighty  jaws,  where  the  wood- 


264  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

work  beneath  the  barrel  close  up  to  the  trigger  guard 
is  still  deeply  scarred  by  the  lion's  teeth. 

Then  ensued  a  struggle  unparalleled,  I  believe,  in  the 
history  of  lion  hunting,  between  a  dying  lion  fighting  to 
the  last  and  a  man  who  knew  himself  to  be  as  good  as 
dead  if  for  an  instant  wind  or  nerve  failed  him. 

Instantly  he  received  the  thrust  down  his  throat,  the 
lion  sank  two  claws  into  the  inner  right  forearm  that  held 
the  rifle,  four  and  six  inches  above  the  hand,  —  sank  them 
into  and  nearly  through  the  arm  to  puncture  of  the  other 
side,  and  this  hold  he  held  until  both  went  down.  Thus 
dragging  at  the  arm  that  held  the  gun,  the  lion  really 
helped  hold  it  to  a  firmer,  deeper  thrust  that  hurt  so  much 
he  shrank  back  from  it,  but,  with  an  advancing  enemy 
whose  grip  the  nigh  paralyzing  pain  of  his  wounds  did 
not  suffice  to  lessen,  he  could  not  escape  it. 

And  there  they  swayed  and  struggled,  each  literally 
staring  death  in  the  face,  Buxton,  indeed,  now  sure  he 
was  gone,  for  the  fetid  odor  of  putrescent  meat  told 
him  the  lion's  carrion-rending  claws  that  held  his  arm 
were  laden  with  poison  of  the  deadliest. 

Meantime  the  beast  was  tearing  the  man  to  ribbons, 
the  hind  claws  slitting  his  legs,  those  of  the  loose  fore  paw 
digging  at  the  hand  that  held  the  rifle.  But  flinch  the 
man  did  not, —  dared  not, —  and  knowing  him  well,  I 
believe  would  not  had  he  dared. 

Luckily,  just  as  Buxton  was  near  to  going  down  of 
sheer  exhaustion  of  the  struggle  and  the  shock  of  his 
wounds,  help  came  from  his  Somali  shikari. 

This  man  from  the  start  of  the  struggle  had  been 
trying  to  shoot  the  lion  with  the  Mauser,  but  could  not 
discharge  it.  Buxton  of  course  supposed  the  gun  was  in 


MRS.  DUIRS  AND  JlMMIE  DUIRS,  AND  LlON  SHOT  BY   CAPT.  A.  B.  DuiRS 

AT  30  YARDS 


THE   HAZARDS   OF  THE  GAME      265 

some  way  jammed,  but  at  the  finish  it  proved  the  gun  had 
been  set  at  "safe,"  and  this,  through  excitement,  the 
Somali  failed  to  note. 

At  length,  and  just  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  the  Somali 
dropped  the  gun  and  literally  sprang  upon  the  lion's 
back,  so  hitting  its  ears  and  pounding  it  about  the  eyes 
with  his  bare  hands  that  it  whirled  to  reach  him  and  all 
three  went  to  earth  together,  the  Somali  beneath  the 
lion;  beneath  both,  the  Mauser. 

Thus  at  last  released,  Buxton  painfully  rose,  gingerly 
pulled  the  Mauser  free  and  with  it  blew  the  lion's  brains 
out,  all  done  so  quickly  he  saved  his  faithful  follower  from 
fatal  wounds. 

A  people  you  are  apt  to  become  fond  of,  are  the 
Somalis,  when  you  come  to  know  them  well. 

Dr.  H.  S.  Hall,  the  resident  physician  of  Juja  Farm, 
got  to  Buxton  just  in  time  to  save  his  life.  With  iron 
nerve,  Buxton  had  cauterized  all  the  thirteen  wounds  with 
pure  crystals  of  permanganate,  and  thus  himself  had  saved 
himself  from  poisoning.  But  some  of  the  crystals  bit 
into  and  opened  an  artery,  and  only  a  tight  tourniquet 
saved  him  from  bleeding  to  death  until,  five  hours  later, 
Hall  came,  tied  up  the  artery,  dressed  his  wounds,  and 
brought  him  here  to  Juja  Farm,  where  he  lay  through 
several  weeks  of  slow  convalescence. 

Some  men  are,  constitutionally,  greedy.  In  September 
I  met  Captain  Buxton  out  on  another  lion  hunt,  not- 
withstanding his  right  arm  was  still  heavily  bandaged! 

One  of  the  finest  lion  trophies  I  have  seen  out  here  is 
that  of  A.  B.  Duirs,  late  of  the  Imperial  Light  Horse, 
one  of  the  first  nine  men  to  gain  entry  into  Mafeking  at 
the  time  of  its  relief,  —  a  ten  and  one-half-foot  black- 


266  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

mane  skin  without  any  visible  mark  of  the  wound  that 
killed  It. 

One  Sunday  morning  last  summer  he  was  out  alone 
stalking  an  impala  buck  on  the  Komo,  two  miles  from 
his  home  on  the  N'durugo,  six  miles  from  Juja.  Suddenly, 
when  almost  near  enough  for  a  sure  shot,  some  lucky 
instinct  prompted  him  to  glance  to  his  right,  —  to  see,  not 
thirty  yards  away,  another  hunter  stalking  the  same  buck 
he  was  after,  a  big  black-mane;  and  no  more  had  he 
turned  than  the  lion  discovered  him  and  instantly  began 
the  snarling  and  tail  lashing  that  preludes  a  charge. 
Realizing  that  it  was  a  case  of  strike  first  and  true,  he 
dropped  on  one  knee,  took  careful  aim,  and  dropped 
His  Majesty  stone  dead,  the  ball  entering  a  nostril  and 
ranging  back  into  the  brain ! 

Oddly,  the  safest  lion  shooting  of  all,  bar  unsportsman- 
like shooting  at  night  from  within  a  thorn  zareba  over  a 
donkey  bait,  or  from  a  treetop  commanding  a  water-hole, 
is  where  the  sportsman  is  afoot  on  a  naked  plain  where 
there  is  nothing  to  climb  more  substantial  than  a  sun- 
beam and  no  hole  to  crawl  into  bigger  than  a  wart-hog's. 
Under  such  circumstances  a  pony  man  runs  the  lion  to 
bay,  while  his  chief  approaches  at  another  angle,  afoot. 
So  run  to  bay,  the  lion  invariably  charges,  charges  des- 
perately, but  nearly  always  at  the  pony  man,  and  not 
infrequently  catches  and  downs  man  and  horse  where  care- 
lessness has  brought  them  nearer  than  a  hundred  yards. 

Often  one  sees  their  fresh  kills,  —  a  month  ago  I 
saw  one  of  the  freshest.  I  was  driving  in  a  gharri  from 
the  farm  to  Ruero  Falls,  over  a  stretch  of  short-grassed, 
level  plain,  presently  entering  a  region  of  long  grass. 
And  into  the  long  grass  I  had  not  driven  more  than  a 


THE  HAZARDS   OF  THE  GAME     267 

hundred  yards  when  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  dead  zebra, 
a  hundred  to  one  a  lion's  kill.  So  over  to  it  I  walked, 
to  find  a  carcass  still  warm,  eyes  not  yet  glazed,  blood  still 
freshly  flowing  and  not  a  wound  on  it  save  two  deep  claw 
digs  on  the  right  shoulder,  and  the  flesh  of  the  neck  im- 
mediately behind  the  ears  torn  away  and  the  spine 
crushed,  just  at  the  base  of  the  skull.  The  zebra  was 
not  dead  three  minutes;  doubtless  I  should  have  seen  the 
attack  if  I  had  been  looking  that  way,  and  probably  old 
Leo  was  then  watching  me  from  a  near-by  thicket  or  out 
of  near  concealment  in  the  grass. 

Without  disturbing  the  kill,  I  drove  the  remaining 
three  miles  to  the  falls,  stopped  there  an  hour,  and  then 
drove  back  within  about  a  mile  of  the  kill,  where  I  left 
gharri  and  driver  and  proceeded  to  carefully  stalk  the 
kill,  sure  the  lion  would  be  returned  and  gorging  himself. 

It  was  aerie  work  by  one's  lonesome,  going  through 
grass  shoulder  high,  with  clumps  of  mimosa  on  all  sides, 
every  step  a  convenient  ambush  of  the  sort  Leo  loves,  and 
the  picture  of  the  zebra's  yawning  wound  and  crushed 
spine  persistently  intruding  before  my  eyes.  However, 
resentful  of  previous  failures,  I  kept  on  till  I  had  the  car- 
cass in  view  at  about  fifteen  yards,  only  to  discover  Old 
Cunning  had  not  returned.  Then  for  an  hour  I  crawled 
about  through  the  grass  and  bush  in  a  wide  circle  of  the 
kill,  only  in  the  end  to  score  another  failure. 

My  host  McMillan  is  more  lucky,  or  more  probably 
a  better  hunter,  for  he  seems  to  get  lion  when  he  likes,  — 
has  a  dozen  or  more  to  his  credit.  On  safari  last  spring 
on  the  Guaso  Nyiro  he  spoored  a  lion  into  an  old  aban- 
doned Masai  kraal,  overgrown  with  tall  grass.  Slipping 
softly  about  the  eight-foot  high  enclosure,  trying  to  locate 


268  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

his  quarry,  suddenly  a  line  of  waving  grass  caught  his 
eye,  and  then  just  as  he  stood  alert  to  get  a  bead,  the 
lion  rose  in  a  mighty  leap  at  the  fence  crest,  for  once  a 
bit  too  slow,  for  a  perfect  snapshot  caught  him  aft,  ranged 
through  him  and  out  of  his  head,  and  added  one  more  to 
the  big  game  trophies  that,  well  set  up,  make  the  "  Jungle" 
of  a  certain  house  in  Berkeley  Square  look  like  a  wholesale 
invasion  of  that  end  of  London  by  militant  African 
carnivora. 

Mombasa,  standing  on  a  bold,  high  headland  between 
its  tiny  north  harbor,  that  well  served  all  purposes  of 
old  Arab  and  Portuguese  days,  and  its  broad  roadstead 
to  the  south  called  Kilindini,  now  almost  exclusively 
used ;  ringed  round  with  tall  brown  coral  cliffs  all  honey- 
combed and  sharp  pinnacled;  well-nigh  hid  beneath 
broad-spreading  mangoes  and  the  lazily  nodding  fronds 
of  palms  which,  wherever  found,  are  the  very  sign  manual 
of  one-time  Arab  dominion;  defended  without  by  a 
perilously  narrow  harbor  entrance  through  the  jagged 
jaws  of  a  broad  belt  of  surf -beat  coral  reef;  defended 
within  by  a  grand  old  coral-walled  fort,  that  for  centuries 
has  added  its  shrill  tenor  drum-beat  to  the  hoarse  bass 
beat  of  the  surf  as  a  challenge  to  all  strange  comers, — 
Mombasa  enjoys  a  climate  and  occupies  a  position  of 
great  natural  military  strength,  commanding  a  trade  route 
that  leads  to  such  rare  prizes  that  for  a  thousand  years 
it  has  known  less  of  peace  than  of  war  —  the  prizes 
sought,  slaves  and  ivory. 

Times  and  times  unnumbered  has  Mombasa  been 
captured  and  sacked  and  changed  sovereignty.  Chinese 
and  Persians,  Japanese  and  Arabs,  Turk  and  Christian 
in  turn  contended  for  it  to  the  death,  and  up  from  the 


ANGUS  MADDEN,  CHIEF  OF  POLICE,  AT  KERICHO  BOMA 
THE  AUTHOR'S  FAREWELL  TO  HIS  KERICHO  HOSTS 


THE  HAZARDS   OF  THE  GAME     269 

far  south  and  over  all  in  the  sixteenth  century  rolled  the 
ruthless  tide  of  the  vandal  Zimba  invasion,  only  to  fall 
later  before  a  wily  Portuguese  alliance  with  warlike  native 
neighbors. 

For  three  years,  from  1696  to  1698,  the  Portuguese 
garrison  of  this  grand  old  fortress  withstood  an  unin- 
terrupted Arab  siege,  only  in  the  end,  wasted  by  famine 
and  bubonic  plague,  to  see  their  flag  cut  down  and  them- 
selves fall  to  the  last  man  by  infidel  scimitars. 

Then  thirty  years  elapsed  before  the  Portuguese  re- 
gained Mombasa,  only  a  few  months  later  to  be  perma- 
nently expelled  by  the  Imaum  of  Muscat. 

And  Arab  ever  thereafter  Mombasa  has  remained,  for, 
technically,  the  town  is  held  to-day  by  the  British  only 
under  concession  from  the  Sultan  of  Zanzibar. 

From  Mombasa  the  narrow-gauge  Uganda  Railway 
climbs  toward  the  high  central  plateaus  as  rapidly  as  its 
shockingly  slow  service  permits;  at  100  miles,  1,800  feet 
elevation  is  reached;  at  200,  2,300  feet;  at  327  (Nairobi), 
5,450  feet;  at  484,  8,340  feet,  — whence  descent  is  rapid 
to  3,650  feet  at  Port  Florence  on  Victoria  Nyanza,  584 
miles  from  the  coast. 

The  country  on  both  sides  of  this  railway  from  its  one 
end  to  its  other  is  literally  alive  with  wild  game,  although 
little  is  seen  of  it  till  the  first  one  hundred  miles  is  tra- 
versed and  the  low  bush  veldt  left  behind,  or  after  the 
more  thickly  settled  Kikuyu  country  north  of  Nairobi  is 
entered.  But  between  Voi  and  Nairobi  train  passengers 
are  seldom  out  of  sight  of  hundreds,  usually  in  sight  of 
thousands,  from  the  tiniest  dik-dik  antelope,  slender, 
delicate,  and  diminutive  as  an  Italian  greyhound,  to 
towering  giraffe  and  massive  lion.  Indeed,  only  a  few 


270  IN  CLOSED   TERRITORY 

days  ago  a  large  herd  of  elephant  crossed  the  railway  just 
east  of  Voi,  trekking  from  the  bamboo  forests  of  Mount 
Kilima  N'jaro  to  fresh  pastures  in  the  north. 

On  my  first  journey  up  from  the  coast,  no  more  than 
two  hundred  yards  from  the  station  of  Kiu,  a  great  lioness 
crossed  the  track  just  in  front  of  us,  walking  slowly  away 
south  and  no  more  than  thirty  yards  from  the  track  as 
we  passed.  Stopped  in  the  station,  a  Boer  emigrant 
took  a  shot  at  her  from  a  car  roof,  but  apparently  missed. 

The  extraordinary  present  abundance  of  game  both 
north  and  south  of  this  section  of  the  Uganda  Railway  is 
due  to  the  fact  that  all  the  vast  territory  extending  from 
the  Tsavo  River  to  Escarpment,  a  distance  of  two  hundred 
and  thirty  miles,  and  from  the  south  line  of  the  track  to 
the  German  border,  embracing  about  eleven  thousand 
square  miles,  is  a  carefully  preserved  game  reserve,  pre- 
served as  jealously  as  the  Yellowstone  Park,  while  im- 
mediately southwest  of  it  in  German  territory  is  another 
reserve  of  the  same  size.  Unfenced,  shut  in  by  no  im- 
passable streams  or  mountains,  the  game  is  free  to  wander 
out  of  and  into  the  reserve  at  will;  but  like  the  shrewd 
stags  of  a  Scotch  deer  forest,  so  well  does  the  game  seem 
to  know  the  very  boundaries  that  mark  for  them  sanctuary, 
that  little  do  they  leave  it  except  in  periods  of  local  drought 
or  as  crowded  out  by  overstocking,  —  so  well  do  they  know 
the  immunity  of  sanctuary  that,  shooting  from  trains 
being  forbidden,  timid  antelope,  wary  giraffe,  and  even 
lion  and  rhino  often  idle  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the 
track. 

And  since  from  the  Tsavo  to  Kapiti  Plains,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles,  there  is  absolutely  no  white 
settlement  north  of  the  track,  and  from  Kapiti  west 


THE  HAZARDS   OF  THE  GAME     271 

settlers  are  few  and  scattering  and  practically  all  within  a 
narrow  belt  of  forty  miles,  naturally  the  heavy  out  move- 
ment of  the  game  is  northward,  while  yet  other  thousands 
are  pouring  down  into  this  central  open  region  of  Ukamba 
and  Kenya  Provinces  from  north  of  the  Guaso  Nyiro  River, 
out  of  the  Jubaland  and  Sugota  Game  Reserves,  that 
together  total  an  area  of  thirty-eight  thousand  square 
miles. 

The  region  lying  between  the  Athi  and  the  Tana 
Rivers  is  the  centre  of  this  sportsman's  paradise,  although 
equally  good  and  varied  shooting  is  to  be  had  southwest 
of  the  railway  in  the  Sotik  country.  Close  upon  a  half- 
hundred  different  varieties  of  big  game  are  here  to  be 
had,  each  in  their  favorite  type  of  country:  elephant 
during  the  dry  (and  hotter)  season,  in  the  dense  bamboo 
thickets  of  high  mountain  slopes  and  during  the  rains  in 
the  bush  veldt  and  elephant  grass  country;  hippo  in  the 
streams,  or  from  dusk  to  dawn  feeding  along  the  banks; 
rhinos,  any  old  place,  on  plain  or  hills,  in  bush  or  open; 
most  buck  and  antelope,  preferably  in  the  most  open  level 
plains;  duyker  and  dik-dik  in  long  grass,  out  of  which 
they  pop  right  under  your  feet,  visible  only  for  the  instant 
of  each  leap,  artful  little  dodgers  most  men  would  be 
more  apt  to  get  with  buckshot  than  with  bullet;  reed 
buck,  among  the  scrub  of  steep,  rocky  hillslopes ;  leopard 
everywhere,  but  seldom  seen  and  rarely  killed  unless  by 
trapping. 

Elephant  are  to  be  found  within  at  the  most  a  week's 
march  of  almost  any  camp  in  the  Protectorate,  as  also 
are  most  of  those  now  rarer  prizes,  —  sable  antelope,  roan 
antelope,  oryx,  eland,  Kudu. 

By  many  sportsmen  the  buffalo  is  considered    a   far 


272  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

more  dangerous  antagonist  than  the  lion.  Loving  the 
shade  and  concealment  of  papyrus  swamps,  dense  forest 
and  fifteen-foot  elephant  grass,  buffalo  are  seldom  seen 
until  you  are  within  a  few  yards,  often  a  few  feet  of  them. 
Mobs  of  buffalo  seldom  charge  you  deliberately  but, 
when  startled  by  scent  of  you  or  by  a  shot,  they  stampede ; 
often  the  mob  comes  thundering  straight  upon  you  and 
you  are  lucky  indeed  if  by  rapid  close  shooting  you  can 
turn  them. 

The  real  danger  with  buffalo  is  with  the  wounded  or 
in  an  encounter  with  a  lone  bull.  The  latter  will  often 
charge  you  from  no  more  provocation  than  the  fact  of 
your  presence.  Recently  an  officer  of  the  King's  African 
Rifles  was  spooring  an  elephant  near  Mount  Kenya  when 
he  sighted  a  lone  buffalo  to  his  right.  Keen  for  his 
elephant,  he  made  a  wide  detour  to  the  left  of  the  line  of 
spoor,  to  avoid  chance  of  having  to  defend  himself  against 
the  buffalo.  When  well  past  the  point  where  he  had  seen 
the  buffalo  he  returned  to  the  spoor,  but  before  he  had 
followed  it  thirty  yards  and  before  he  could  turn  or  spring 
aside,  with  a  cleverly  executed  rear  charge,  the  buffalo, 
which  had  been  quietly  stalking  to  intercept  him,  caught 
him  on  its  horns  and  tossed  him  upon  the  flat  top  of  a 
mimosa  tree,  where,  luckily,  he  lodged  comparatively 
unhurt.  And  there  up  the  tree  the  doughtv  old  warrior 
held  him  till  nightfall! 

A  wounded  buffalo  is  infinitely  more  dangerous  when 
he  runs  from  you  than  when  he  charges,  for  in  nine  cases 
out  of  ten,  after  a  dash  that  may  be  of  a  few  hundred 
yards  or  a  mile,  he  revengefully  circles  back  to  an  inter- 
ception of  his  own  trail,  stands  hid  in  grass  or  thicket  until 


THE  HAZARDS   OF  THE  GAME     273 

his  pursuer  comes  plodding  all  unconscious  along  the 
trail,  and  then  is  out  and  upon  him. 

And  yet  fierce  as  is  the  temper  of  a  lone  bull,  savage 
his  cunning,  irresistible  his  great  charging  bulk,  I  believe 
him  far  less  dangerous  than  the  lion, —  he  has  less  speed, 
lacks  the  lion's  poisoned  weapons,  and  is  a  much  bigger 
target;  and  this  opinion  is  substantiated  by  the  indispu- 
table fact  that  at  least  ten  men  are  killed  or  mauled  by 
lion  to  one  by  buffalo. 

While  easily  stalked,  the  rhino  is  a  most  nasty  cus- 
tomer, as  most  men  will  agree  who  have  hunted  him  — 
especially  Benjamin  Eastwood,  Chief  Accountant  of  the 
Uganda  Railway,  who  was  mauled  and  tramped  by  one 
to  the  near  loss  of  his  life  and  the  actual  loss  of  one  arm 
above  the  elbow. 

If  the  rhino  gets  your  scent,  almost  invariably  he 
charges,  —  often,  probably,  from  sheer  curiosity,  only  that 
does  n't  make  him  any  more  easily  disposed  of.  Moreover, 
he  runs  and  turns  at  a  speed  incredible  of  his  vast  bulk. 
Either  shoot  straight  or  stand  absolutely  motionless,  when, 
with  his  bad  sight,  there  is  a  possibility  he  may  mistake 
you  for  a  tree  and  veer  past  you. 

Indeed,  this  latter  is  the  safest  tactics  in  the  crisis  of 
any  and  all  charges,  stand  fast  and  still,  —  even  the  un- 
wounded  lion  sometimes  swerves  in  his  charge  and  retires 
before  a  man  with  nerve  to  so  await  his  coming. 

Where  you  sight  your  rhino  first  and  can  get  the  wind 
of  him,  it  is  perfectly  easy  to  stalk  within  even  five  or  ten 
yards  and  land  a  shot  where  alone  you  can  be  sure  of  a 
kill,  —  four  inches  back  of  the  eye  into  the  brain  pan, 
into  the  spine  between  neck  and  shoulder  or  midway  of  the 


274  IN  CLOSED   TERRITORY 

body  and  in  line  with  the  centre  of  the  foreleg  into  the 
heart.  And  none  of  these  shots  are  possible  except  with 
a  hard-nose  bullet,  —  no  soft  nose  will  penetrate  his  thick 
hide  to  any  vital  part. 

Doubtless  the  most  exhausting  and  nerve-racking 
work  the  African  sportsman  encounters  is  in  the  pursuit 
of  elephant.  Not  often  are  they  to  be  found  except  by 
following  their  own  narrow  paths  between  walls  of  bamboo 
thicket,  jungle  tangle,  or  elephant  grass  so  entirely  im- 
penetrable to  the  hunter  that  escape  from  the  path  is 
impossible.  So  meet  an  approaching  frightened  herd 
and  chance  of  escape  is  practically  zero.  Rarely  does 
one  see  elephant  until  within  a  few  yards  of  them.  Often 
one  will  find  himself  squarely  in  the  middle  of  a  feeding 
herd,  will  hear  them  breaking  limbs  or  tearing  up  roots, 
within  five  or  ten  feet  of  him,  on  all  sides,  and  yet  without 
seeing  one!  Like  any  youngsters,  the  totos,  the  babies, 
are  playing  about  the  outer  edge  of  the  herd.  At  the 
first  alarm,  the  mothers  rush  trumpeting  about  for  their 
young,  and  it  is  in  such  a  position  the  hunter's  greatest 
danger  of  elephant  lies.  Imprisoned  in  bush  through  which 
they  easily  crash,  man  and  beast  are  practically  in  collision 
before  there  is  time  for  the  man  to  stop  him  with  a  vital 
shot  in  the  chest,  —  the  only  vital  spot  in  a  charging 
African  elephant,  —  or  even  time  for  the  elephant,  from 
surprise  or  fear,  to  swerve.  Otherwise  safely  armored  by 
the  massive  bone  structure  of  the  head,  the  elephant's 
comparatively  tiny  brain  is  only  to  be  reached  by  a  side 
shot  in  the  orifice  of  the  ear,  while  the  sure  shot  for  the 
heart  is  midway  of  the  body  and  in  line  with  the  inner  side 
of  the  foreleg.  Indeed,  I  have  known  several  elephants 
to  retire,  leisurely  if  not  comfortably,  with  two  or  three 


THE  HAZARDS   OF  THE  GAME     275 

balls  in  the  temple  which  had  failed  to  reach  the 
brain,  whether  to  ultimate  recovery  or  death  was  never 
learned. 

The  vitality  of  the  elephant  is  enormous,  as  in  fact  is 
that  of  all  African  game,  down  to  the  tiniest  buck. 

But  occasionally  a  white  man  comes  along  with  a 
vitality  as  astonishing  as  that  of  his  quarry.  Of  this 
Craig  Helkett,  an  officer  of  the  First  King's  African  Rifles, 
is  a  wonderful  proof. 

Out  for  a  few  weeks'  sport  with  elephant  before  going 
on  leave,  he  gave  one  a  mortal  chest  shot  at  such  close 
range  that  it  was  upon  him  before  he  could  deliver  a 
second  shot,  passed  one  of  its  great  tusks  first  transversely 
through  his  stomach  and  then  through  his  thigh,  picked 
him  up  with  its  trunk  and  tossed  him  far  to  one  side 
into  the  bush,  and  then  lurched  away  to  die.  And, 
miracle  of  miracles,  though  it  was  nine  days  before  his 
men  got  him  to  Entebbe  and  surgical  aid,  he  is  making  a 
safe  recovery. 

Still  for  the  experienced  and  prudent  elephant  hunter, 
the  sport  is  comparatively  safe.  Mr.  Bell,  an  English- 
man who  has  been  for  the  last  five  or  six  years  shooting 
elephant  for  the  ivory,  as  a  business,  and  who  has  to  his 
credit  the  probably  unparalleled  bag  to  one  gun  of  over 
five  hundred  head,  says  he  has  never  yet  been  charged. 
Only  a  fortnight  ago  he  came  into  Entebbe  from  a  four 
months'  safari  in  the  Congo  country  with  the  tusks  of 
one  hundred  and  eighty  big  fellows.  Deducting  the 
period  of  the  journey  in  and  out,  this  remarkable  kill 
must  have  been  made  within  no  more  than  six  weeks' 
actual  shooting!  And  one  day  alone  he  bagged  eighteen! 
No  bad  business  with  ivory  at  two  dollars  and  a  half  a 


276  IN   CLOSED  TERRITORY 

pound  and  an  average  tusk  weight  of  probably  one  hun- 
dred pounds  per  pair! 

Asked  by  a  friend  of  mine  how  he  had  contrived  to  so 
long  come  off  unscathed,  Bell  replied,  "I  never  shoot 
until  I  get  my  big  tusker  right;  if  I  find  myself  amid  a 
big  herd,  I  manage  to  slip  out  and  bide  my  time;  patience 
will  always  get  you  a  big  tusker  right,  and  then  you  have 
it  your  own  way,"  and,  indeed,  "patience"  is  the  watch- 
word of  every  notably  successful  big  game  hunter:  wait- 
ing to  "get  them  right." 

Hippo  are  rarely  to  be  had  in  daylight  hereabouts, 
although  they  are  plenty  in  the  larger  streams  and  posi- 
tively swarm  in  the  lakes  of  less  than  5,000  feet  altitude. 
They  are  easiest  to  be  had  by  cruising  at  dawn  in  boat 
or  canoe  a  few  yards  out  from  landings  for  their  favorite 
grazing  grounds,  where  a  fair  breast  or  shoulder  heart 
shot  may  be  had  as  they  enter  the  water,  or  by  lying  in 
wait  on  land  on  moonlight  nights  for  them  to  come  ashore. 
On  the  water  at  dawn  or  of  a  night  they  often  rise  near 
you,  and  in  such  position  the  only  sure  shot  is  through  a 
yawning  nostril  into  the  brain.  They  are  trophies  well 
worth  while,  their  great  teeth,  finer  ivory  than  that  of  the 
elephant,  making  beautiful  mirror  or  picture  frames. 
On  water  they  are  beasts  to  have  especial  care  of,  for  they 
sometimes  charge  you  and  sink  your  canoe  with  a  crunch 
of  the  jaws  or  rise  under  the  canoe  and  spill  you  into 
crocodile-infested  waters. 

At  the  African  home  of  my  host,  William  Northrup 
McMillan,  at  Juja  Farm,  twenty-two  miles  from  Nairobi, 
and  in  the  heart  of  the  great  Athi  Plains,  all  the  East 
African  game  abounds  in  thousands,  except  rhino  and 
elephant,  sable  and  roan  antelope  and  oryx  —  and  the 


THE   HAZARDS  OF  THE  GAME     277 

latter  are  to  be  had  within  two  to  five  days'  journey  — 
hundreds  nearly  always  in  sight  from  the  veranda  of  the 
house.  I  have  lighted  a  cigarette  in  my  room  at  daylight 
and  gone  out  and  killed  a  big  Wildebeeste  bull  before 
the  cigarette  was  finished.  In  fact,  the  twenty  thousand 
acres  of  the  "farm"  so  swarm  with  game  after  the  rains 
that  before  the  dry  season  is  half  over  the  grass  is  eaten 
short  as  on  an  overcrowded  cattle  range,  all  from  the 
overflow  of  the  great  game  reserves  north  and  south  of 
us.  But  notwithstanding  their  great  numbers,  it  takes 
marksmanship  to  get  game  on  the  Athi  Plains, —  for  they 
are  bare  of  cover  and  it  is  unusual  to  get  a  shot  at  any- 
thing but  lion  or  hippo  short  of  three  hundred  to  six 
hundred  yards. 

The  heavy-bore  rifles  are  now  practically  obsolete 
among  African  sportsmen,  the  four,  eight,  and  twelve 
bores  and  even  the  .577,  whose  chief  merit  lay  in  the  fact 
that  they  sometimes  kicked  you  out  of  the  way  of  a 
charging  beast.  Few  now  use  anything  heavier  than  the 
English  double-barrelled  .450  cordite,  and  I  and  many 
others  find  the  .405  Winchester  the  most  satisfactory  of 
all  for  all-round  African  work,  although  the  30-30  is 
heavy  enough  for  anything  except  a  few  of  the  bigger 
fellows,  while  not  a  few,  Bell  and,  I  understand,  Selous 
included,  prefer  to  trust  in  the  higher  velocity  and  flat 
trajectory  of  the  pencil-like  .256  Mannlicher  for  even 
elephant.  While  I  have  not  yet  tried  the  Mannlicher, 
I  believe  it  is  no  more  than  probable  its  devotees  are  right, 
for  such  is  the  extraordinary  vitality  of  all  African  game 
that  the  more  lead  you  throw  into  them  the  faster  and 
farther  they  run,  unless  you  get  brain,  heart,  or  spine. 
I  have  myself  in  a  two-mile  pursuit  of  a  two  hundred  and 


278  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

seventy-five  pound  wounded  hartebeeste  bull  put  nine 
big  .35  Mauser  bullets  through  him  before  finally  bringing 
him  down,  and  a  few  days  ago  Captain  Dugdale  and  First 
Officer  Hampden  of  the  S.  S.  Clement  Hill,  on  Victoria 
Nyanza,  put  twenty-two  . 303*5  into  a  hippo  before  getting 
him. 

Even  the  smaller  antelope,  slender  and  delicate  though 
they  appear,  must  be  hit  in  brain, '  heart,  or  spine,  no 
matter  what  the  calibre  of  your  gun,  or  you  lose  them. 

Not  a  few  American  sportsmen  besides  McMillan 
have  had  their  fling  at  African  big  game,  notably  Astor, 
Chanler,  John  Bradley,  and  Max  Fleischman,  and  more 
are  sure  to  come. 

The  journey  may  be  made  most  comfortably.  By 
arranging  close  sailing  connections,  the  German  Lloyd 
steamers  from  New  York  to  Naples  and  the  well-served 
German  East  African  line  thence  south  fetch  you  to 
Mombasa  in  thirty  days,  and  two  days  later  you  can  be 
in  Nairobi,  all  at  a  cost  well  within  $500,  or  at  Marseilles 
one  may  connect  with  the  steamers  of  the  Compagnie 
Messageries  which  sail  once  a  month  via  Suez  for  all 
East  African  ports  to  Mombasa,  and  for  all  island  ports 
thence  south  to  Madagascar  and  Reunion. 

Nairobi,  the  seat  of  government  of  this  Protectorate, 
now  has  a  total  white  population  of  eight  hundred  and 
fifty,  including  the  military  and  police,  while  its  highly 
variegated  assortment  of  colors,  ranging  from  pale 
saffron  to  ebony,  numbers  eleven  thousand.  Its  streets, 
especially  about  the  Indian  bazaar,  are  thronged  with 
Orientals  and  native  savages,  the  former  as  weirdly  pic- 
turesque in  the  variety  and  styles  of  their  costumes  as  are 
the  latter  in  the  scantiness  or  entire  lack  of  any  costume 


THE  HAZARDS  OF  THE  GAME     279 

at  all.  Grave  Sikh  constables,  bearded  and  turbaned; 
Parsee  merchants  and  clerks  in  long  black  coats  and  flat- 
topped  skull  caps ;  Hindu  mechanics,  .turbaned  and  often 
carrying  water  pipes  half  as  big  as  a  foot  bath;  coast 
Swahilis  in  long,  nightgown-like  kanzus  of  thinnest 
muslin  and  embroidered  white  skull  caps;  flowing- 
robed  Arabs  with  sashes  stuck  full  of  enough  life-taking 
steel  to  arm  a  half-dozen  men  of  any  other  race;  tall, 
slender,  graceful  Somalis  in  khaki  jackets,  turbans, 
and  flowing  waist  cloths;  Goanese  merchants  and  clerks 
in  white  drill;  Indian  women  and  children  wearing  more 
brilliant  colors  than  even  a  kaleidoscope  could  boast, 
and  Kikuyu  women  with  nothing  on  but  a  flapping, 
slipping  skin  or  length  of  begrimed  "American!"  (cotton 
cloth)  which  sometimes  covers  the  back  and  sometimes 
does  not,  sometimes  shrouds  one  end  of  the  body  and 
sometimes  the  other,  a  cover  so  scanty  as  to  leave  little 
to  the  imagination  except  the  privilege  of  conjecture  why 
they  bother  to  wear  it  at  all;  tall,  lithe  Masai  warriors, 
their  hair  in  flapping  red  ringlets,  had  of  a  mixture  of  red 
clay  and  castor  oil,  a  skin  loosely  looped  about  both 
shoulders  or  over  one,  short  swords  stuck  in  their  belts 
and  in  their  hands  spears  with  narrow  blades  three  feet 
long;  gallant  Kikuyu  dandies  with  the  lobes  of  their  ears 
split  and  stretched  to  hold  anything  from  a  tomato  can 
to  a  porcelain  marmalade  jar,  or,  if  a  bit  epris  by  civili- 
zation, swaggering  under  a  battered  helmet  or  strutting 
about  in  nothing  but  a  faded  and  fragmentary  but  tightly 
buttoned  frock  coat;  red-blanketed  Wakamba,  their 
upper  teeth  filed  to  points  sharp  as  pins, —  these  once 
eaters  of  their  enemies  and  of  their  own  dead,  as  are  still 
several  tribes  within  ten  days'  march  of  here;  and  here 


280  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

and  there  the  khaki-clad  figure  of  a  European,  helmeted 
and  putteed,  looking  isolated  in  this  jostling  savage 
throng  as  a  vagrant  cork  upon  the  sea. 

Nor  are  the  vehicles  and  the  beasts  that  draw  them 
less  varied  than  the  people.  An  Irish  jaunting  car 
drawn  by  a  sixteen-hand  Missouri  mule  is  followed  by  a 
two- wheeled  pleasure  cart  with  a  body  much  the  shape 
but  twice  the  size  of  a  theatre  wagon,  painted  in  daubs 
of  every  gaudy  color  the  builder  could  command,  drawn 
by  a  pair  of  hump-necked  bullocks  that  jog  along  at  a 
clumsy  but  tolerable  pace,  the  European  lady  and  chil- 
dren inside  bouncing  helplessly  about,  wondering,  I  im- 
agine, whether  heads  or  elbows  are  to  get  the  next  bump. 

Then  along  is  apt  to  come  dear  old  John  Boyes,  King 
of  the  Kikuyu,  in  an  American  buggy  drawn  by  two 
Abyssinian  mules  so  diminutive  I  am  puzzled  why  so 
kindly  a  soul  as  he  does  not  stow  the  mules  under  the 
buggy  seat  and  pull  the  trap  himself. 

Next,  one  is  likely  to  see  approach  at  slow,  lurching 
pace  a  pair  of  camels,  hitched  tandem  to  the  high  two- 
wheeled  cart  of  some  Somali  trader,  the  camels'  faces 
wearing  the  ghastly  expression  of  equal  parts  of  double 
distilled  agony  and  concentrated  extract  of  despair  that 
always  makes  the  mere  sight  of  a  camel's  face  run  one's 
temperature  down  to  congealment  of  the  very  fountains 
of  content  and  joy.  Follows  a  great  Transvaal  trek 
wagon,  rattling  and  groaning  along,  pulled  by  anywhere 
from  five  to  twenty  yoke  of  cattle,  a  Hindu's  cart  pulled 
by  two  dome-necked  bullocks,  the  driver  roosting  on 
his  heels  upon  the  tongue  of  the  cart,  tight  and  safe  as  a 
fly  on  a  wall,  or  a  rickshaw  drawn  by  a  donkey  and  crowds 
of  rickshaws  propelled  by  "boys." 


THE  HAZARDS   OF  THE  GAME     281 

Despite  its  raw  appearance,  Nairobi  possesses  an 
excellent  hotel,  which  at  certain  seasons  is  crowded  with 
safari  parties,  for  here  alone  are  the  safari  parties  organ- 
ized. Twenfy  such  parties  went  out  in  October  and  No- 
vember, ten  are  now  at  the  Norfolk  Hotel,  and  forty  or 
fifty  more  are  expected  during  December  and  January. 
The  usual  party  consists  of  two  men,  occasionally  of  only 
one,  sometimes  of  three  or  four.  Not  a  few  ladies  come 
out, — and  some  shoot. 

Probably  half  the  sportsmen  coming  out  here  are  of 
the  British  or  Continental  nobility.  The  more  brilliant 
planets  of  the  titular  firmament,  princes,  dukes  and  earls, 
abound,  while  its  lesser  lights,  lords,  counts,  and  barons, 
are  here  thick  enough  to  form  a  " milky  way"  were  it  not 
for  the  fact  that  theirs  is,  by  preference,  a  whiskey-and- 
soda  way.  Here  are  the  names  of  a  few  of  those  either 
now  here  or  who  have  been  here  in  the  last  few  months . 
Duchesse  de  Aosta,  Prince  de  Furstenberg,  Prince  de 
Chimay,  Duke  de  Penaranola,  Marquis  de  la  Scala, 
Earl  of  Gifford,  Duke  de  Alba  (Aide-de-Camp  to  the 
King  of  Spain),  Duke  de  Medinacoli,  Lord  and  Lady 
Waleran,  Lord  Bury,  Lord  Wodehouse,  Sir  E.  and  Lady 
Plowden,  Sir  Charles  Kirkpatrick,  Count  Palffy,  Count 
Zichy,  Baron  Kervyn  de  Leltenhone,  Baron  von  Uklan- 
ski,  Baron  and  Baroness  de  Bethune,  General  and  Mrs. 
Allenby,  Colonel  Yardley,  Colonel  Colville,  Professor 
Agassiz,  and  Major  Dalgety. 

The  sportsman  need  bring  here  nothing  but  his  guns 
and  ammunition.  Newland,  Tarlton  and  Co.,  Limited, 
the  Boma  Trading  Co.  and  Will  Judd  make  a  specialty 
of  furnishing  safari  parties  and  do  it  well.  A  safari  for 
one  man  will  consist  of  a  white  safari  leader,  usually  a 


282  IN  CLOSED  TERRITORY 

good  shot  and  familiar  with  the  country  and  the  run  and 
habits  of  its  game,  a  headman,  gun  bearer,  cook,  mess 
boy  and  tent  boy  (all  Somalis),  and  twenty  to  twenty-five 
shenzi  (savage)  porters,  each  carrying  on  his  head  a 
sixty-pound  load  —  tents,  beds,  provisions,  etc.,  all 
furnished,  including  food,  at  three  hundred  and  fifty  to 
five  hundred  dollars  a  month.  Horses,  mules,  liquors, 
etc.,  are,  of  course,  extra.  Horses  here  are  scarce  and 
dear,  thanks  to  the  tsetse  fly,  a  Somali  pony  worth  no 
more  than  thirty  dollars  in  Texas  bringing  readily  two 
hundred  dollars,  while  Abyssinian  mules,  tough,  wiry, 
and  good  roadsters  but  little  bigger  than  a  donkey,  sell 
at  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  The  "big"  game 
license,  which  allows  you  to  kill  from  one  to  ten  head  of 
about  everything  afoot  or  a-wing,  costs  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars. 

Every  one  is  asking  how  long  the  big  game  here  can 
last.  I  should  say  certainly  no  more  than  four  or  five 
years  in  anything  like  its  present  abundance  and  easy 
access.  About  1,200,000  acres  have  already  been  taken 
up  by  white  settlers,  stock  raisers,  and  farmers,  who 
find  it  difficult  and  in  some  places  impossible  to  main- 
tain fences.  Buffalo  and  zebra  especially  go  through 
barb  wire  as  if  it  were  no  more  than  thread.  As  a  result 
the  settlers  have  been  so  actively  urging  changes  in  the 
game  laws  permitting  them  to  shoot  at  will  trespassing 
game  that  a  few  evenings  ago,  at  the  St.  Andrews  dinner 
of  the  Nairobi  Caledonian  Society,  the  Governor,  Colonel 
Sir  James  Hayes  Sadler,  stated  that  while  he  agreed  that 
sport  was  in  a  way  a  mainstay  in  the  making  of  British 
manhood,  public  game  preservation  must  not  be  per- 
mitted to  impede  the  development  of  the  country  by 


THE   HAZARDS  OF  THE  GAME     283 

white  settlers,  and  further  said  that  changes  in  the  game 
laws  in  this  particular  were  under  consideration.  Give 
the  settler  a  free  hand,  and  a  year  or  two  will  see  easy 
shooting  ended  within  seventy-five  miles  of  the  railway, 
except  on  big  estates  like  Juja  and  Kamiti,  whose  owners 
are  likely  to  preserve  them  indefinitely  as  shooting  boxes. 

Any  American  sportsman  keen  for  a  chance  at  African 
big  game  shooting  while  still  at  its  best  should  not  long 
delay  coming,  but  I  don't  believe  any  one  now  living  will 
live  to  see  African  big  game  actually  exterminated. 

For  at  least  the  course  of  this  generation  there  will 
remain  plenty  of  places  where  the  active  enthusiast  can 
get  his  elephant,  lion,  rhino,  hippo,  buffalo,  and  most  of 
the  antelope  family  except  a  few  of  the  rarer  species. 
Indeed,  not  even  two  or  three  generations  will  see  the 
swamps  and  jungles  of  the  Congo,  the  Zambesi,  the  Tana, 
the  Juba,  the  Lake  and  the  Nile  basins,  etc.,  or  the  forest 
recesses  and  bamboo  thickets  of  Central  Africa's  taller 
uplifts,  generally  occupied,  save  as  now  by  natives,  or  in 
any  considerable  measure  tamed;  and  until  so  occupied 
and  tamed  they  must  remain  a  safe  breeding  region  and 
retreat  for  all  sorts  of  the  bigger  game  which  is  most 
sought. 

Portuguese  East  Africa  and  the  Congo  are  full  of  fine 
shooting,  though  not  so  varied  as  here.  Moreover,  the 
climate  of  both  sections  is  far  more  dangerous  than  that 
of  British  East,  and  neither  offers  any  facilities  for 
safari  provision. 

German  East  Africa,  Matabeleland,  Northern  Rho- 
desia, Somaliland,  and  Abyssinia  offer  capital  sport, — 
but  all  under  either  less  convenient  or  less  safe  conditions 
than  here. 


284  IN  CLOSED   TERRITORY 

And,  even  yet,  far  south  in  Cape  Colony,  the  Trans- 
vaal, Basutoland,  and  the  Orange  Colony,  it  is  a  poor 
sportsman  who  cannot  take  a  few  days  off  and  slip  away 
to  a  quiet  bit  of  bush  or  nook  of  plain  where  he  can  bowl 
over  a  few  buck  or  even  an  elephant. 

THE  END 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Aboriginal  instincts  for  location  and 

direction,  107,  112 
Abullahi,  182 
Abyssinia,  283 

Abyssinia,  W.  N.   McMillan's   expe- 
ditions through,  181 
Abyssinian  buffalo,  31 
Abyssinian  mules,  280,  282 
Aden,   branch  of  National   Bank  of 

India  at,  261 
Admiral,    of    German    East    African 

Line,  185,  201  (note),  203 
Africa,  country  of  contradictions,  58 
African  native,  characteristics  of,  38, 

136,  137,  183,  184,  217-220,  227-229 
Agassiz,  Prof.,  281 
Agilo,  Kavirondo  chief,  84-88 
Agricultural  and  Industrial  Exhibition 

of   Uganda,    Kampala,    1908,    209, 

212-216,  231 
Aikley,  Carl,  161 
Akuna,  Masai  guide,  67,  68,  72,  75, 

96,   IO2 

Alba,  Duke  de,  281 

Albert  Edward,  Lake,  204,  205 

Albert  Nyanza,  Lake,  235 

Allenby,  Gen.  and  Mrs.,  281 

Allsop,  Mr.,  199 

Araala  River,  134,  203 

Ambagathi  River,  4 

American  merry-go-round  at  Uganda 

Exhibition,  212 
American  sportsmen,  278,  283 
"Americani"      (unbleached      cotton 

cloth),  64,  65,  86,  279 
Anglo-German      Boundary      Survey 

Commission,   6,   62,   91,    in,    199 
Ankole,  exhibits  from,  214,  216 
Ankole,  King  of,  214,  216 
Ankori  Province,  Uganda,  82 
Antelope  family,  36,  51-53,  no,  270, 

271,  278,  283 
Aosta,  Duchesse  de,  281 
Apes,  32,  47,  190 


Arab  Barta,  128,  139,  147,  149,  156, 

159 
Arab  dominion  in  Africa,   114,   137, 

268,  269 
Arab  extraction,  Somali    shikaris  of, 

260 

Arab  Miner,  167 
Arab  Sendow,  139 
Arab  Tumo,  127,  128,  139-141,  147, 

149,  168-173 
Arabian  stallions  for  Mr.  Roosevelt's 

use,  200 

Arabs,  weapons  carried  by,  279 
Archery  contest  among  Masai,  72-74 
Arrow,  poisoned,  effect  of,  71 
Arrow,    poisoned,    found    in    buffalo 

bull,  28,  29 

Astor, ,  American  sportsman,   278 

Atanansi,  third  in  Marathon  race,  216 
Athi  Plains,  3,  186,  189,  190,  196,  276, 

277 

Athi  River,   188,   189,  201,  259,  271 
Automobile  in  Uganda,  210 
Awala  Nuer,  of  safari  staff,  2,  18,  48- 

50,  71,  97,  153,  156,  159,  182 

B 

Baboons,  50 

"  Backsheesh,"  native,  64,  86,  87 

Baganda  natives,  81,   134,   211,  215, 

237,  246 

Baker,  Dr.,  80,  83,  84,  88,  221 
Baker,  Hyde,  131 
Baleka,  cannibal,  82 
Bananas,  212,  236,  247 
Baringo,  Lake,  166,  204 
Bark  cloth,  215 
Basutoland,  284 

Beads  for  native  trade,  64,  65,  86 
Bed,  Wanderobo,  165,  166 
Bele  (Wanderobo),  165,  166 
Bell,  Mr.,  elephant  hunter,  275-277 
Bell,  Sir  H.  Hesketh,  K.  C.  M.  G., 

Governor  of  Uganda,  204,  210,  212- 


287 


288 


INDEX 


Bergash  Bin'Said,  Sultan  of  Zanzibar, 

231 
Berti,  Mrne.,  of  the  Equatorial  Hotel, 

Entebbe,  217 

Bethune,  Baron  and  Baroness  de,  281 
Big  Game  License,  188,  282 
"Big  rains,"  5,  34,  47,  145,  176,  203 
"  Big  Water  Holes,"  6 
Birds,  carrion-feeders,  104,  105 
Bison,  American,  44 
Black-mane  lion,  188,  262,  265,  266 
Black-water  fever,  146,  179 
Blood-poisoning  caused  by  teeth  and 

claws  of  lion,   202,   257,  264,   265 
Blue  Nile,  181 

Boer  history,  names  famous  in,  201 
Boer  War,  196 
Bogongo,   landing-place  for    Mabira 

forest,  235,  249 
Boies,  John,  ivory  hunter,  114 
Boma  Trading  Co.,  281 
Bomaed  camp,  40 
Bongo,  130,  188,  204 

Botha, ,  farmer,  201 

Bow,  Masai,  73,  74 
Bowmen,  Masai,  67 
Boyes,  John,  King  of  the  Kikuyu,  280 
Boyle,  A.  G.,  C.  M.  G.,  Sub-Com- 
missioner, 234,  239,  253 
Bradley,  John,  278 
Brazilian  rubber  product,  242 
Britannia,  under  Roman  rule,  219 
British  authority  over  natives,  4,  84, 

181,  243 
British  East  Africa,  best  lion  pony  in, 

191 

British  East  Africa,  buck  in,  32 
British  East  Africa,  climate  of,  283 
British  East  Africa,  eland  in,  192 
British  East  Africa,  enforced  native 

labor  forbidden  in,  227 
British  East  Africa,  game  restrictions 

in,  192 
British  East  Africa,  land  productivity 

and  prices  in,  248,  249 
British  East  Africa,  lion  in,  195 
British  East  Africa,  local  administra- 
tions in,  249 
British  East  Africa,  population  and 

cultivation  of,  223 
British  East  Africa,  Mr.  Roosevelt's 

safari  in,  203 
British  East  Africa,  sleeping  sickness 

in,  80,  221 
British  East  Africa,  species  not  found 

in,  205 


British  in  Mombasa,  269 

British  Museum  bongo  trophy,   130 

Briton  and  Yankee  manners  toward 
strangers,  78,  79 

Broken  Hills,  Northern  Rhodesia,  233 

Brooke,  Bryan,  176 

Brown,  Ernest,  247 

Bruce,  Colonel  Sir  David,  220-222 

Bubonic  plague  among  natives,   220 

Buck  as  fence- jumpers,  194 

Buck-shooting,  190,  271 

Bucks  furnish  cloaks  and  bow  strings 
to  natives,  67 

Bucks,  wounded,  prey  of  carrion- 
feeding  birds,  104 

Buffalo,  14,  24-31,  60,  141,  147,  171, 
177,  178,  190,  192,  238,  255,  271- 
273,  282,  283 

Buffalo  tail  soup,  33 

Bulpett,  Charles,  182 

Bunbury,  ,  of  Donya  Sabuk,  188 

Burton,  217 

Bury,  Lord,  281 

Bush  buck,  130,  189 

Bush  lion,  46 

Butiaba,  205 

Butterenjonie,  Masai  chief,  134 

Buvuma  Island,  235 

Buxton,  Captain,  210 

Buxton,  Geoffry  Charles,  262-265 


Cabanoa  Forest,  145,  166 

Cabanoa  Hills,  141, 142, 145, 147, 149, 

164 

Cairo,  204,  205,  233,  234 
"Cairo,     Streets     of,"     at     Chicago 

World's  Fair,  212 
Camels,  280 

Camp  protected  against  beasts,  17,  40 
Candelabrum  cactus,  40,  236 
Cannibals,  279 

Canoe,  Baganda  war,  235,  249 
Cape  buffalo,  see  Buffalo. 
Cape  Colony,  284 
Cape  Mounted  Police,  115 
"Cape  to  Cairo"  railway,  233,  234 
Capitalists  in  Equatorial  Africa,  227 
Caravan    road    from    Mombasa    to 

Uganda,  199 

Carbonate  of  soda  deposit,  5 
Cardross,  Lord,  4 
Cassava,  212,  247 

Castilloa  Elastica,   rubber  tree,    247 
Cave  Dwellers  of  Mt.  Elgon,  204 


INDEX 


289 


Caves  of  a  Hundred  Lion  on  the  Athi, 

188 
Central  American  rubber  product,  242, 

247 
Ceylon,  rubber  industry  in,  239,  242, 

243 

Chandler  reed  buck,  in 

Changwe  District  of  Uganda  Protect- 
orate, 230 

Chanler, ,  American  sportsman, 

278 

Chant  of  natives  at  toil,  211,  215,  236 

Charge  of  beast,  how  best  to  meet,  273 

Cherries,  wild,  107 

Chevalier,  Dr.,  42 

Chicago  World's  Fair,  "Streets  of 
Cairo"  at,  212 

Children  of  Baganda  natives,  237 

Chimay,  Prince  de,  281 

Chinese  at  Mombasa,  268 

Chipalungo  Forest,  204 

Christmas  on  the  Mau  Escarpment,  34 

Chumvi,  Mt.,  200,  202 

Church  Missionary  Society,  209,  212 

Churchill,  Winston,  224 

Churchyards,  224 

Citronella,  247 

City  of  the  future  at  head  of  Nile,  234 

Clement  Hill,  of  Victoria  Nyanza 
service,  209,  210,  278 

Climate  at  head  of  Nile,  234 

Climate  of  British  East  Africa,  Portu- 
guese East  Africa,  and  the  Congo, 
283 

"Closed"  territory,  115,  116 

Cobra,  42,  171,  179,  238 

Cocoa,  247 

Coffee  culture,  215,  247 

Coke's  hartebeeste,  109 

Collyer,   Deputy  Commissioner,   256 

Colobus  monkeys,  36,  37 

Colonial  Office,  229,  249 

Colville,  Col.,  281 

Colville,  Lady,  and  son,  safari  of,  168, 
169 

Colvin,  R.  A.,  31 

Congo  country,  ivory  from,  275 

Congo  district,  climate  of,  283 

Congo  jungles,  sleeping  sickness 
originated  in,  80-82 

Congo  River,  204,  283 

Coral  at  Mombasa  harbor,  268 

Corporal  punishment  of  natives,  136- 
139,  167,  182-184,  228 

Cotton  industry,  212,  215,  216 

Crane,  lavender  crested,  250 


"Crepe"  rubber,  244 
Crickets,  African,  108 
Crocodile,  60,  189,  192,  234,  238,  239, 

251,  252 

Crops  of  Uganda,  247,  248 
Croton-oil  plant,  247 
Crystal    Palace   Exposition,  London, 

1851,  209 

Cunningham,  R.  I.,  161 
Cunninghame,   R.    J.,    14,    179,   182- 

187,  191,  203-205 
Curing  of  elephant  feet  for  trophies, 

167 
Curios,  natives  refuse  to  part  with,  94 

D 

Dalgety,  Major,  281 

Dar-es-Salaam,  218 

Date  palms,  212 

Daudi  Chwa,  King  of  Uganda,  212, 

214 
Dawa    (medicine),    natives    demand, 

93.94 

Derria,  of  safari  staff,  182 
Destro,  John,  188 
Dik-dik,  32,  189,  194,  269,  271 
Dingonek,    Maggori    River   monster, 

I3I-I34 
Diseases  of  Equatorial  Africa  (except 

sleeping  sickness,  -which  see),  219, 

220,  223 
Diseases  on  which  white  settlers  have 

to  count,  224 
Divers,  black,  251 
Djama  Aout,  181,  182,  191,  262 
Dongas  in  which  lion  hide,  199,  201 
DonyaSabuk  Farm,  188,  189, 191,  259 
Draft  animals,  192 
Dress  of   Kavirondo   natives,   84-86, 

211,  236 

Dress  of  Kikuyu  natives,  279 
Dress  of  Masai  warriors,  279 
Dress  of  Toroni's  Masai,  93 
Dress  of   Uganda  natives,    211,    236 
Duck  Creek  camp,  40 
Dugdale,  Captain,  278 
Dugmore,  Mr.  Radclyffe, 
Duirs,  Captain  A.  B.,  189,  191,  265, 

266 
Duyker,  189,  238,  271 

E 

East  African  Standard,  The,  quoted, 
193.  194 


290 


INDEX 


East  Indian  bureaucratic  red  tape,  249 

Eastwood,  Benjamin,  273 

Eland,  32,  36,  37,  41,  42,  69-72,  189- 

192,  271 

Eldama  Ravine,  166 
Eldama  Ravine  Boma,  131 
Elephant,  65,  66,  75-77,  89,  95-103, 

105,   113,   114,   116,   119-123,   142, 

145,     147-163,     165-171,     I73-I7S. 

177,  178,   181,   187,  203,  205,  255, 

270,  271,  274-276 
Elephant  grass,  76,  77,  142,  150,  160, 

169-171,   173,   174,   187,   213,   234, 

235,  237,  238,  246-248,  274,  283 
Elephant  hunters,  native,  119-123,  136 
Elephant  hunters,  white,  89,  98,  102, 

113-115,  158,  162,  275,  276 
Elephantiasis,  219 

Elgon,  Mt.,  Cave  Dwellers  of,   204 
Elk,  fast  gait  of,  70 
Elmy,  Adam,  182 
Emin  Pasha,  rescue  of,  232 
Enforced  native  labor  forbidden,  227 
Engabai  (Masai  name  for  Mara),  113, 

"5>  IX9 

Engabai  plains,  127 
English  Cathedral  at  Kampala,  212, 

213 
Entebbe,  180,  205,  217,  218,  221,  232, 

275 

Entebbe,   botanical  gardens  of,    247 
Entebbe  District,  231 
Equatorial  Africa,  capitalists  in,  227 
Equatorial  Africa,  division  of,  among 

the  powers,  217 
Equatorial  Africa,  empire  builders  in, 

239 

Equatorial  Africa,  geographical 
bounds  of,  217,  218 

Equatorial  Africa,  paradise  for  pio- 
neers, 225 

Equatorial  Africa,  population  of,  219, 
220,  223 

Equatorial  Africa,  seasons  in,  108 

Equatorial  Africa,  socially  and  indus- 
trially, 223,  224 

Equatorial  Hotel,  Entebbe,  217 

Exeter  Hall,  humanitarians  of,  228, 
229 

Extermination  of  African  big  game, 
283 


Farmers  in  B.  E.  A.,  192,  194,  201, 

282 
Farmers,  native,  227 


Farming,  modern  scientific,  opportun- 
ity for,  223,  247 

Fashoda,  French  defeat  at,  210 

Feast,  elephant,  161-163 

Fecus  trees,  237 

Fencing  in  B.  E.  A.,  194,  282 

Fevers,  146,  179 

Field  Columbian  Museum,  represent- 
ative of,  161 

Fire  sticks,  native,  105 

Fires,  grass,  145,  163,  164,  168 

Fish  at  Ripon  Falls,  234 

Fleischman,  Max,  278 

Foaker,  Collector,  131 

Food,  native  manner  of  consuming, 
106,  no,  138,  161-163,  219 

Forest  camp,  129,  130 

Forest  guinea  fowl,  129 

Forty-niners,  California,  225 

Freight  rates,  249 

French  defeat  at  Fashoda,  210 

Frontal  head  shot  takes  effect  on 
rhino,  23 

Funtumnia  Elastica,  prime  rubber 
tree,  237,  244,  246,  247 

Furstenberg,  Prince  de,  281 


Game,  abundance  of,  178,  189,  190, 

192,  269-271,  276,  277,  282 
Game,  herd  of,  numbering  thousands, 

124-126 
Game-killing    by    natives    forbidden, 

62,  74 
Game  laws,  113,  191,  192,  257,  282, 

283 
Game   near   Uganda    Railway,    206- 

208,  269,  270 
Game  preservation,  282 
Game  reserves,  270,  271,  277 
Game  shooting  in  Africa,  254 
Game  unafraid  of  man,  44,  270 
Garnets,  43 

Gatineau  River  rapids,  254 
George,  Mr.,  188 
Gerenuk,  32 
Germ  diseases,  blacks  susceptible  to, 

219 
German  border,  country  along,   181, 

187,  270 
German   East  Africa,  conditions  for 

sport  in,  283 
German  East  Africa,  labor  situation 

in,  229 


INDEX 


291 


German  East  Africa,  population  and 

cultivation  of,  223 
German  East  Africa,  sisal  industry  in, 

248 

German  East  African  Line,  185,  278 
German    seizure    of    ivory    hunter's 

camp,  113 

German  territory,  ivory  trade  in,  119 
German     territory,     Maggori     River 

valley  in,  105 
German   territory,    sleeping   sickness 

in,  221 

Germans,  natives  fear,  62,  229 
Gharri,  Boer,  belonging  to  Juja  Farm, 

189 

Ghee  (clarified  butter),  215 
Gifford,  Earl  of,  281 
Gilgil,  204 
Giraffe,  14-16,  51,  125,  126,  189,  269, 

270 

Giraffe  tail  meat,  33 
Glossina  pal  pal  is,  species  of  tsetse  fly, 

221 
Goldfinch, ,  companion    of    Mr. 

Lucas,  of  Donya  Sabouk,  259 
Gondokoro,  180,  205 
Gould,  Jay,  Masai  chief  resembled,  72 
Government,     ivory     hunters     assist 

cause  of,  114,  115 
Gower,  Leverson,  46 
Grahamstown,  196 
Granadilla  vines,  200 
Grand  Hotel,  Mombasa,  206 
Grant,  231 

Granti,  44,  189,  191,  194 
Grasshoppers,  108 

Gratitude,  natives  not  capable  of,  137 
Grazing   lands   of   Northwest   Texas 

and  New  Mexico,  248 
"Great  White  Way"  at  St.  Louis  Ex- 
hibition, 212 
Greater  Kudu,  166,  204 
Greek  ivory  traders,  119 
Grizzly  bear  hunting,  177,  255 
Guaso  Narok  River,  166,  204 
Guaso  Nyiro  River,  5,  6,  10,  12—14, 

16,  17,  24,  204,  256,  267,  271 
Guns,    22,    23,    27,    54,   55,   90,   99, 

IS3-IS5.  IS8.  262-265,  277 
Gwasi  range,  83 

H 

Habia,  Masai  tracker,  70,  71,  75,  89, 

96,  103,  105-107,  112 
Hadji  Ali,  182 


Halaled  meat,  66,  186 
Hall,  Dr.  H.  S.,  265 
Hall,  Ft.,  167,  204 

Hammond, ,  of  Kamiti  Farm,  190 

Hampden,  Lieut.,  210,  278 

Hartebeeste,  189,  278 

Hassan  Yusef,  182,  191,  196,  262 

Hazard  and  sport,  254 

Heatley,  Hugh  H.,  190 

Helkett,  Craig,  275 

Hill,  Clifford  and  Harold,  187,  195- 

202,  206 
Hinde,  Provincial  Commissioner  S.  L., 

201 

Hindu  merchants  in  Nairobi,  279 
Hippo,   60,    189,    238,    251-253,   271, 

276-278,  283 
Hobley,  Provincial  Commissioner,  131, 

134,  224 
Hoima,  205 
Homa,  Mt.,  83 
Honey  birds,  105,  107 
Honey,  wild,  106 
Horns  of  old  and  young  buffalo  bulls, 

28 

Horse  sicknesses,  fatal,  192 
Horses,  192,  282 
Hotel  at  Nairobi,  281 
Huebner,  Mr.,  207 
Hughes,  John,  chemist,  243,  245 
Human  sacrifices,  219 
Humphery,  District  Commissioner  R. 

W.,  197,  258 
Hunger  of  natives,  163 
Hunter    in     Africa,     dangers    that 

threaten,  179 
Hunting,  ethics  of,  104 
Hut  tax,  annual,  86,  117 
Huts,  native,  236 
Hyena,  56,  91,  in,  167,  189,  192 

I 

Ibis,  Nile,  250 

Impala,  32,  46,  48,  68,  125,  130,  189, 

266 
Imperial  Boundary  Survey,  35,  40,  42, 

62 

Imperial  British  Company,  232 
Imperial    Light    Horse    (Boer   War), 

196,  265 

Imprisonment  of  natives,  228 
Indentured  foreign  labor,  227 
India,  "mono-rail"  railway  systems 

in,  211 
Indian  Bazaar,  Kampala,  212 


292 


INDEX 


Indian  Bazaar,  Nairobi,  278,  279 
Indians  of  North  and  South  America, 

218,  220 
Indigo,  247 

Insect  life  about  Victoria  Nyanza,  250 
Ironsmiths,  native,  215 
Isaac,  Deputy  Commissioner,  130,  201 
Isogu  River,  176 
Isuria   Escarpment,    52,   67-69,    108, 

127,  204 
Isuria  range,  64 
Ivory  from  hippo  teeth,  276 
Ivory  hunters,  see  Elephant  hunters 
Ivory  trade,  113,  119,  158,  268,  275, 

276 

J 

Jackals,  56 

Jackson,    Lieutenant-Governor,    116, 

224,  239 
Jalou  Nilotic  Kavirondo,  villages  of, 

77 

Japanese  at  Mombasa,  268 
"  Jews  of  the  Dark  Continent,"  260 
Jinja,  204,  221,  232-235,  237 
Johnston,  Sir  Harry,  180,  231 
Jones,   Deputy  Commissioner  L.  A. 

F.,  176 
Jordan,   John  Alfred,   114-127,   129- 

136,  139,  142-144,  146,  i47,   149. 

152-160,  163-166,  175 

Joubert, ,  Boer  farmer,  201 

Joubert,  General,  201 

Journey  to  African  hunting  grounds, 

278 

Juba  River,  283 

Jubaland   Game   Reserve,    204,    271 
Judd,  William,  i,  22,  26,  27,  37,  38, 

44,  45,  S2,  S3,  60,  64,  65,  179,  180, 

281 
Juja  Farm,   159,   176,   186-189,  I91' 

196,  200,  202,  203,  258,  259,  262, 

265, 266,  276,  277,  283 


Kagwa,  Sir  Apolo,  K.  C.  M.  G.,  214 

Kakunguru,  the,  at  Uganda  Exhibi- 
tion, 214 

Kamiti  Farm,  190,  283 

Kamiti  River,  190 

Kampala,  209-212,  220,  231 

Kapere,  Uganda  native,  winner  of 
Marathon  race,  216 

Kapiti  Plains,  177,  186,  109-201,  270 

Kapiti  Station,  200 


Karungu,  79,  83,  119 
Katelembo  Farm,  195,  196 
Kavirondo  country,  sleeping  sickness 

in,  221 

Kavirondo  country,  trophies  from,  187 
Kavirondo  tribe,   66,   78,   84-87,   89, 

134,    211,    222;    see   Jalou   Nilotic 

Kavirondo 

Kavirondo  villages,  location  of,  78,  80 
Kenia,  Government  launch,  205 
Kenya,  Mt.,  167,  180,  187,  203,  272 
Kenya  Province,  271 
Kericho,  114,  139,  166,  168,  175,  176 
Khartoum,  205,  231,  233,  235 
Khedive  of  Egypt,  232 
Kibaibai  Hills  and  Springs,   40,   46 
Kibokos  (whips)  of  hide,  23,  136,  182, 

228 

Kibololet,  51 
Kidong  valley,  64 
Kikuyu  country,  269 
Kikuyu  hills,  3 

Kikuyu  natives,  3,  5,  10,  114,  279 
Kikuyu  porter  killed  by  lion,  256,  257 
Kilima  N'jaro,   Mt.,    200,    231,    270 
Kilima     Theki     Farm,     Sir     Alfred 

Pease's,  186 
Kilimanjaro  giraffe,  14 
Kilindini    Harbor,    201    (note),    206, 

268 

Kimberley  blue  clay  diamond  forma- 
tion, 43 
Kindness,  natives  misunderstand,  136, 

228 

King  of  Beasts,  lion  the,  255 
Kingfisher,  250 
King's  African  Rifles,  212,  213,  272, 

275 

Kioga  District,  native  chief  of,  245 
Kioga,  Lake,  235 
Kipp,  Miss,  189 
Kirkpatrick,  Sir  Charles,  281 
Kisii  country,  65,  96,  187 
Kisii  Government  boma,  79,  84,  142, 

169 

Kisii  herd,  range  of,  169 
Kisii  Highlands,  65,  89,  103,  166,  175, 

221 

Kisii  natives,  84,  163 
Kisumu,  205,  220,  221,  232,  236 
Kisumu,  Province  of,  83,  84,  221,  222 
Kitanga,  199,  200,  201,  206 
Kiu,  station  on  Uganda  Railway,  207, 

270 

Kivu,  Lake,  82,  214 
Kiwala,  Mabira  forest,  246 


INDEX 


293 


Komo  River,  266 

Komo  Rock,  189 

Kongoni,  123,  125 

Koorhaan,  33 

Korkosch,  Mongorrori  chief,  134 

Koydelot,  chief  of  the  Masai,  63,  64, 

67,  119 
Kudu,    271;    see    lesser    Kudu    and 

greater  Kudu 

Kuja  River,  75,  77,  83,  88,  170,  221 
Kumbari,  25,  48 


Laane,  Father,  224 

Labor  in  Equatorial  Africa,  227-229, 
249 

Labusoni  (Wanderobo  chief),  119- 
122.  136,  144,  165 

Lacemakers,  native,  215 

Ladies  who  shoot  big  game,  281 

Laikipia  country,  168 

Land  laws,  249 

Land  owners  in  B.  E.  A.,  192 

Land  productivity  and  prices,  248,  249 

Land  to  be  acquired  by  white  settlers, 
227 

Lanjaro  Spring,  201 

Laso,  women's  garment,  236 

Latex  (milk),  rubber,  239-244 

Laws,  249 

Legerdemain  tricks  puzzling  to  na- 
tives, 63 

Leltenhone,    Baron    Kervyn   de,  281 

Lenani's  Southern  Masai,  4,  34 

Lenderut  River,  47 

Lenderut  River,  cascades  of,  47,  48 

Lengijabi  Mountain,  39 

Leopard,  69,  90,  91,   177,   190,   192, 

257.  27i 

Lesser  Kudu,  32,  43,  204 

License  for  natives,  demand  for,  228 

Lichtenstein  hartebeeste,  90,  91,  103, 
104 

Limerick  Plains,  168,  203 

Lion,  19,  40,  41,  46,  55,  56,  60,  68, 
69,  123,  124,  141,  171,  177,  178, 
181,  182,  186-190,  192-199,  201-203, 
206-208,  255-260,  262-270,  272,  273, 
277,  283 

Lion,  black-mane,  188,  262,  265,  266 

Lion,  maneless  (bush),  46 

"  Lion,"  Swahili  word  for,  208 

"Little  rains,"  3,  58,  235 

"Livers,  tropical,"  225 

Livingstone,  217 


Loam,  rich,  of  Uganda,  247,  248 
Lochfyne,  Mabira  forest,  246 

Loder, ,  African  farmer,  192 

Loder,  Sir  Edmund,  206 

Loita   Masai,    tribe   of,   34,    75;   see 

Toroni  (Masai  chief) 
Londiani  Station,  204 
London,  Mr.,  deceased,  193 
London,  price  of  rubber  in,  240,  243, 

244 

Long  Juju  Farm,  188,  202 
Long  Tom,  Juja  pony,  191 
Longworth,  "Daddy,"  260 
"  Looseandgiddy "  camp,  94,  95,  103, 

108,  161 

Lucania  Range,  201 
Lucas,  Miss,  of  Donya  Sabuk,   189 
Lucas,  Mr.,  killed  by  lion,  189,  259, 

260 

Luck  bird  (Ol  Toilo),  Wanderobo,  122 
Lugard,  Captain,  212,  232 
Lumbwa  country,  trophies  from,  187 
Lumbwa  highlands,  75 
Lumbwa  range,  64 
Lumbwa  station  on  Uganda  Railway, 

64,  65,  175,  176 
Lumbwa  tribe,  64,  116-119,  127,  131, 

135,  138,  161,  162,  171 
Luquata,  lake  monster,  134 
Luziro,  209-211 

M 

Mabira  forest,  230,  232,  235,  237-247 
Mabira  headquarters,  239,  245,  246 
Machakos  Fort,  197,  258 
Machakos  Range,  196, 199-201 
Mackie,  Captain  F.  Percival,  222 
Mad  Mullah,  181 
Madagascar,  steamers  for,  278 
Madden,  Angus,  176 
Mafeking,  relief  of,  265 
Mafuta,  137-139 
Magadi,  Lake,  5,  9,  n,  193 
Maggori  River,   75,  89,  93,  94,  96, 

105-107,  131,  132,  135,  137,  138,  161 
Mahdi's  downfall,  181 
Mahdist  swordsmen,  181 
Mahogany,  237 
Makalinga,  193 

Malarial   fever,    146,    179,    234,    239 
Mamba,  171,  238 
Man-eating  lions,  193,  194,  207,  208, 

255.  256 

Maneless  (bush)  lion,  46 
Manga  Lumbwa  tribe,  127 


294 


INDEX 


Manual  labor  performed  by  blacks, 

227,  249 

Maps,  African,  88 
Mara  River,  52,  57,  58,  60,  61,  66,  67, 

88,  108,  113 

Marabout  storks,  16,  56,  104 
Marathon  race,   Uganda  Exhibition, 

216,  231 

Marauding  night  prowlers,  91,  92 
Marini,  Menyamwezi  native,  137-139 
Marlow,  William,  188,  202 
Martin,  ex-Collector  James,  134,  224, 

231,  232,  239,  245 
Masai  tribe,  4,  34,  61-65,  67,  68,  72- 

75,  89,  93-96,  98-101,  105,  106,  119, 

134,  135.  279 
Matabeleland,  283 
Mataia   (Lumbwa   chief),    119,    127, 

128,   131,   133,   134,   139,   143-145. 

147,  152-157,  159,  166,  167,  171 
Matthews,  General,  231 
Mau  Escarpment,  8,  17,  24,  34-36,  64, 

•203 

Mau  Plateau,  40,  44 
Mbango,  Mabira  forest,  246,  247 

McClellan,  ,   killed   by  lion,   256 

McClure,    District    Commissioner,    4 
McMillan,    William    Northrup,    181, 

183,   186,   188,   192,   201-203,   20S> 

206,  267,  268,  276,  278 
McMillan,   Mrs.   William   Northrup, 

206 

Medinacoli,  Duke  de,  281 
Melbourne,    S.    S.,    177    (note),    201 

(note),  206 

Mengo  Hill,  Kampala,  209,  212,  232 
Merry-go-round   at   Uganda   Exhibi- 
tion, 212 
Mesageries,     Compagnie,     steamers, 

278 
Mesageries  Maritimes,  Cie,  177  (note), 

206 

Metama,  66,  78,  86,  222 
Miller,  Joaquin,  225 
Missionaries,  209,  261,  262 
Missionary,     medical,     among     Mo- 
hammedans, 261,  262 
Mohammedan  Somali   shikaris,  260, 

261 

Mohammedan  Swahili,  66,   181,   186 
Mohammedan  worshippers,  18, 19,  261 
Molo,  of  safari  staff,  2,  37-39 
Molo  River,  166 
Mombasa,   131,   186,    193,   199,   202, 

206,  207,  210,  218,  231,  232,  244, 

268,  269,  278 


Mombasa  prison,  228 
Mongorrori  tribe,  134 
Monkeys,  7,  32,  36,  37,  57,  58,  101, 

189,  238 

"Mono-rail  system,"  Kampala's,  211 
Moose,  danger  from  a  wounded,  177 
Mosoni,  128,  131,  133,  139,  159,  167 
Mosquito  a  possible  communicator  of 

sleeping  sickness,  223 
M'piri  (cobra),  42 
M'tongwe,  natives  of,  193 
Mud,  natural  element  of  elephant,  77 
Mules,  192 

Mules,  safe-footed,  76 
Munyata,  Masai,  61 
Murchison  Bay,  209 
Muscat,  Imaum  of,  269 
Musical  instruments,  native,  236 
Mutesa,  King,  209 

Muvule,  species  in  Mabira  forest,  241 
Mwanga,  King,  232 

N 

Nabrisi  (Wanderobo),  165,  166 

Nairobi,  3,  57,  78,  167,  176,  186,  203- 
205,  209,  218,  269,  276,  278-281 

Nairobi  Caledonian  Society,  St.  An- 
drew's dinner  of,  282 

Nairobi  Hospital,  260 

Nairobi  jail,  228 

Naivasha,  203 

Naivasha,  Lake,  203 

Nakasero  Hill,  Kampala,  212 

Namirembe  Hill,  Kampala,  212,  213 

Napoleon  Gulf,  233 

Native  methods  at  Uganda  Exhibi- 
tion, 215 

Native  races  in  North  and  South 
America  and  Central  Africa,  218, 
220 

Natron,  Lake,  20,  24,  26 

N'durugo  River,  188,  266 

Neville's  Horse  (Boer  War),  196 

New  Mexico,  grazing  lands  of,   248 

New  Year's  Eve  in  the  jungle,  45,  46 

Newland,  Tarlton  and  Co.,  Limited, 
193,  281 

N'garami,  Lake,  9 

N'gararu  Hills,  166 

N'gari  Kiti  River,  16,  17.  34,  36 

N'gari  Kiti  swamp,  24-26 

N'gari  Nyiro  River,  34 

N'garoyo  River,  145 

Ngong  range,  4 

Ngong  Spring,  5 


INDEX 


295 


N'guraman  Mountain,  17 

Nile,  Blue,  181 

Nile  delta,  201  (note) 

Nile  River,  88,  177,  204,  205,  214,  223, 

230-234,  246,  283 

Nile,  upper,  navigation,  head  of,  205 
Nile,  White,  233 
Nimule,  205 

Nobility,  sportsmen  from  the,  281 
Noises  emitted  by  lion,  19,  40,  41,  68 
Norfolk  Hotel,  281 
North  America,  big  game  shooting  in, 

254 

North  America,  settlement  of,  con- 
trasted with  that  of  Equatorial 
Africa,  218,  220 

North  American  pioneers,  225-227 

Northcote,  Assistant  Deputy  Com- 
missioner, 83,  84,  88,  89,  108,  161, 
221 

Nsambya  Hill,  Kampala,  212 

Nubians,  213 

Nundewat,  83 

Nyeri,  204 

Nysambia,  species  in  Mabira  forest, 
241 

o 

Ogadan,  plains  of,  181 

Okapi,  131 

Ol  Albwa,  Mount,  40-43 

Ol  Toilo,  Wanderobo  luck  bird,  122 

Olympia  Marathon  race,  216 

Omdurman,  battle  of,  181 

Orange  Colony,  284 

Orchids,  238 

Oribi,  46,  109,  no 

Oryx,  271,  276,  277 

Osman,  of  safari  staff,  182 

Ostrich,  189,  196 

Ostrich  Hill,  189 

Outram,  George  Henry,  i,  6,  8,  n, 
12,  14,  22,  24,  25,  27,  35,  40-42, 
44-46,  48,  52,  54,  56,  60,  62,  68, 
69,  72,  78,  79,  86,  89,  96,  97,  99, 
loo,  102,  109-111,  113,  134,  139, 

160,  166,  175,  176 
Outram  Pass,  34,  35 
Owen  Falls,  231 
Oxus,  S.  S.,  206 

Oyani  River,  75,  77-79,  83,  84,  88,  96, 

161,  221,   222 


Palffy,  Count,  281 

Palms,  trace  of  Arab  dominion,  268 


Panama,  malarial  fevers  at,  234 

Papayas,  247 

Papyrus  swamps  along  the  Kamiti, 
190 

Papyrus  swamps  along  the  Seziwa,  246 

Para  rubber,  239,  240,  243,  244,  247 

Parasitic  vines,  237 

Parenti,  Cavaliere  A.,  206,  207 

Parrots,  238 

Parsee  merchants  in  Nairobi,  279 

Paths  made  by  the  Big  Ones,  17 

"Patience,"  watchword  of  big  game 
hunters,  276 

"Patients,"  native,  93,  94 

Patterson,  Colonel,  208 

Pease,  Sir  Alfred,  186,  195,  199, 
200,  203,  206 

Pease,  Lady,  and  daughter,  206 

Penaranola,  Duke  de,  281 

Penton,  ,   of  Donya  Sabuk,    188 

Permanganate,  pure  crystals  of, 
wounds  cauterized  with,  265 

Persians  at  Mombasa,  268 

Photographs,  48 

Pigs,  wild,  126 

Pineapples,  247 

Pioneers,  225-227 

Plains,  Western,  in  early  '7o's,  44 

Plantain  trees,  238 

Plowden,  Sir  E.  and  Lady,  281 

Poisoned  arrows,  28-30,  71 

Polar  Star  not  visible,  59 

Policemen  as  lion-hunters,  208 

Ponies,  how  used  in  lion  shooting,  202, 
255,  266 

Ponies,  Juja  shooting,  191 

Ponies,  value  of,  282 

Population  of  Equatorial  Africa,  219, 
220,  223 

Population  of  Uganda,  Unyoro,  and 
Usoga  reduced  by  sleeping  sick- 
ness, 221 

Port  Florence,  79,  269 

Porters,  safari,  2,  3,  7,  10,  37-39,  66, 
68,  76,  77,  88,  no,  148,  167,  183, 
185,  186,  222,  235,  236,  282 

Portuguese    at    Mombasa,    268,    269 

Portuguese  East  Africa,  283 

Portuguese  territory,  sleeping  sickness 
in,  221 

Posho,  vegetable  food  for  porters,  3, 
66,  79,  86 

Power  at  head  of  Nile,  234 

Prayers  of  Mohammedan  worship- 
pers, 1 8,  19,  261 

Predatory  beasts,  192,  194 


296 


INDEX 


Prinsloo, ,  Boer  farmer,  201 

"Protected"  game,  192 

Ptomaine  poisoning,  natives  not  sub- 
ject to,  219 

Puff  adders,  238 

Pugge,  Outram's  terrier,  54,  no,  in 

Pulmonary  diseases  among  natives, 
220 

Pungwe  River,  2 

Python,  171,  179,  189,  191,  238 

R 

Race  suicide  among  Baganda  natives, 

237 

Raids,  inter-tribal,  237 

Railway  between  Luziro  and  Kam- 
pala, 210 

Railway,  "Cape  to  Cairo,"  233,  234 

Railway  from  Jinja  to  Lake  Kioga, 

235 

Railway  to  Lake  Magadi,  proposed,  5 
"Records  of  Big  Game,"   Rowland 

Ward,  30,  159 
Reed  buck,  189,  271 
Regalia  of  Kavirondo  chief,  84,  85,  87 
Reunion,  steamers  for,  278 
Rhino,  white,  204 
Rhinos,  14,  20-24,  46,  117,  139-141, 

169,   171-173,   177,  178,   180,   192, 

199,  204,  255,  270,  271,  273,  274, 

276,  283 

Rhodes,  Cecil,  234 
Rhodesia>  81,  221,  234,  283 
Rhododendron-like  bush,  140 
Riches  of  natives,  227 
Rift  Valley,  9,  24 

Ripon  Falls,  230-235,  246,  249,  251 
Road  from  Entebbe  to  Hoima,   205 
Roads  in  Uganda,  204,  214 
Roan  antelope,  52,  53,  no,  128-130, 

204,  271,  276 
"Roar"  of  lion,  41 
Robertsi,  44 

Robinson, ,  14 

Robley,  Adam,  182 

Roman  rule  in  Britannia,  219 

Rongana  River  and  adjacent  country, 

118,  135,  144,  145,  148,  163-165, 

167,  204 

Roosevelt,  Kermit,  185,  186 
Roosevelt,  Mr.,  34,  177,  178,  180-187, 

189-192,  195,  200-206 
Royal  Geographical  Society,  88 
Royal  Society,  220 
"Rub-downs,"  elephant,  95,  96,  103 


Rubaga  Hill,  Kampala,  212 

Rubber  industry,  230,  232,  237,  239- 

244,  246-248 
Rubber,   wild,  in  "closed"  districts, 

116 

Rubeni,  second  in  Marathon  race,  216 
Ruero  Falls,  266 
Rumuruti  Boma,  166,  204,  256 

Rutherfoord, ,  African  farmer,  192 

Ruwero  River,  188 

Ryall,  Mr.,  killed  by  lion  while  asleep 

in  railway  carriage,  207 


Sable  antelope,  271,  276 

Sadler,   Col.   Sir   James  Hayes,   282 

Safari,  discipline  of  natives  on,  136, 

137,  182-184,  228 
Safari  leaders,  professional,  179 
Safari  life  training  in  patience,  3 
Safari  outfitting,  281,  282 
Safari  parties  made  up  at  Nairobi,  281 
Safari,  Mr.  Roosevelt's,  in  B.  E.  A., 

203 

Safari  staff,  2,  181,  182,  281,  282 
Safari  travel,  5,  37-39,  57,  76,  176,  281 
Safari,  white  men  on,  185,  186,  281 
Saiba,  headman,  78 
Saint  Joseph's  Mission,  Kampala,  212 
St.  Louis  Exhibition,   "Great  White 

Way"  at,  212 
Salem,  of  safari  staff,  2,  90,  133,  144, 

162,  182 

Salt  springs  on  Rongana  River,  144, 

148 
Sambi  River,  142,  148,  151,  160,  161, 

163,  165,  169 

Sandals,  porters',  made  from  giraffe 

skin,  14-16 

Sanseviera,  wild  fibre  plant,  32 
Scala,  Marquis  de  la,  281 
Schlobach,  Herr  Hauptmann,  91,  92 
Seasons  in  Africa,  58,  108 
Selous,  F.  C.,  31,  180,  184,  185,  203, 

277 

Sessi  group  of  islands,  81,  220 
Sessi  River,  175 
Setik,    John  Alfred    Jordan   in   the, 

114 

Sewall,  Mr.,  210 
Seziwa  River,  246 
Shambas  (farms),  native,  227 
Shammers,  treatment  of,  7 
Shombol  Mountain,  24 
Signal  fires,  39 


INDEX 


297 


Sikh  constables  in  Nairobi,  279 

Sikh  Infantry,  212,  213 

Simba,  station  on  Uganda  Railway, 

208 

Sisal,  247,  248 
Skinning  of  elephant,  161 
Slave  trade  of  Mombasa,  268 
Sleeping   sickness,    80-83,    134,    179, 

220-223,  234,  237 
Sleeping  Sickness  Camp  of  Assistant 

Deputy    Commissioner    Northcote 

and  Dr.  Baker,  78-80,  82-84,  161, 

221 

"Small  (settler's)  license,"  226 

Smith,  Colonel  G.  E.,  199 

Smithsonian  Institution,  representa- 
tives of,  185,  1 86 

Snakes  in  Mabira  forest,  247 

Sobat  River,  178,  181,  205 

Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty 
to  Animals,  177,  192,  194 

Soiat  Hill,  166 

Somali,  food  of,  66 

Somali  shikaris  as  lion  hunters,  260, 
262,  264,  265 

Somali  shikaris,  characteristics  of,  182, 
183,  260-262,  265 

Somaliland,  181,  283 

Somalis  as  safari  staff,  182,  183,  191, 
282 

Somalis,  dress  of,  279 

Sony  a  (volcano),  24 

Sotik  boma,  169,  204 

Sotik  boma  chief,  169 

Sotik  country,  65,  168,  187,  203,  271 

Soudanese,  213 

South  America,  big  game  shooting  in, 

254 

South  America,  settlement  of,  con- 
trasted with  that  of  Equatorial 
Africa,  218 

South  American  rubber  product,  242 

Southern  Cross,  58,  59,  210 

Southern  Masai,  see  Masai 

Southern  Masai  Reserve  Boma,  4 

Spear  thrusts  of  Arab  Tumo,  171-173 

Speke,  88,  217,  231 

Speke's  discovery  of  Victoria  Nyanza, 
88 

Spirits,  use  of,  by  Africanders,  83,  225 

Spooring,  skilful,  70 

Sport,  British,  282 

Sport,  essentially  relative,  254 

Sportsman's  license,  113,  115,  131, 
167,  188,  191,  192,  226,  257,  282 

Sportsmen,  dilettanti,  179 


Stallions,  Arab,  for  Mr.  Roosevelt's 
use,  200 

Stanley,  217,  231,  232,  243,  251 

Stanton,  Mr.,  193,  194 

Stars  of  southern  sky,  58,  59 

Stations  in  Mabira  forest,   246,   247 

Steady  shooting  dependent  on  regular 
breathing,  21 

Steamers  operated  by  Uganda  Rail- 
way on  Victoria  Nyanza,  205 

Styles  change  among  natives,  64,  65 

Sugota  Game  Reserve,  271 

Sultan  Hamud,  station  on  Uganda 
Railway,  207 

Sultani  of  Jalou  Nilotic  Kavirondo 
villages,  78 

"Sundowner,"  83 

Swahili,  food  of,  66,  185,  186 

Swahilis  as  safari  staff,  182,  185 

Swahilis,  dress  of,  279 

Swallows,  aerial  corsairs,  25 1 

Sweet  potatoes,  247 

Swift, ,  African  farmer,  192 

Sybil,  232 

Syphilis  among  natives,  220 


Tana  River,  271,  283 

Tanga,  218 

Tanganyika,  Lake,  221,  231 

Tanks,  natural,  on  Lenderut  River,  48 

Tarlton, — ,  professional  safari  leader, 

179,  193,  281 
Taxation,  249 

Terrier  as  game  dog,   54,    no,    in 
Texas,  grazing  lands  of,  248 
Theika  River,  262 
Theki  Farm,  186,  187,  195,  200,  201, 

203,  206 

Theki,  Mt.,  199,  200,  202 
Thompson,  Joseph,  231 
Thompsoni,  189 
Thorn  bush  interwoven  with  elephant 

grass,  150,  173 
Tick  fever,  179 
Tiger,  Asiatic,  177 
Timber  trees  in  Mabira  forest,  237, 

241 

Times,  London  Weekly,  88 
Tommys,  46,  68,  191,  194 
Tompkins,  S.  C-,  C.  M.  G.,  Chief 

Secretary  of  Uganda,  224,  239,  258 
Tools   for    rubber   tapping    used    at 

Mabira  forest,  239,  243 
Topi,  51,  53-55,  68,  69,  89 


298 


INDEX 


Toro,  King,  of,  214 

Toro,  Uganda  Province  of,  204 

Toroni  (Masai  chief),  75,  76,  89-91, 

93-95.  161 

Totos,  Kavirondo,  85 
Trade  goods,  64,  65,  86 
Transportation   facilities  to   Uganda 

Exhibition,  209 
Transvaal,  284 
Transvaal  trek  wagon,  280 
Transvaal  War,  115 
Trophies,  19,  23,  24,  30,  31,  33,  34,  37. 

59,  90,  91,  158,  159,  167,  176,  179, 

253,  265,  268,  276 
"Tropical  livers,"  225 
Trypanosomiasis,  see  Sleeping  sickness 
Tsavo  River,  270 
Tsavo,  station  on  Uganda  Railway, 

208 
Tsetse  fly,  35,  80,  81,  221,  223,  234, 

282 
Turks  at  Mombasa,  268 


u 

Uasin  Guishu  Plateau,  204 

Uganda  Exhibition,  209,  212-216,  231 

Uganda  Hills,  210 

Uganda  natives,  211,  212,  236 

Uganda   Protectorate,   80,    199,    204, 

214,  218,  221,  227,  230,  232,  236, 

243,  247,  248,  271 
Uganda  Railway,   64,   79,   114,    175, 

176,   186,   205-209,    226,    269,   270 
Uganda,  sleeping  sickness  in,  82 
Ukamba,  District  of,  197 
Ukamba  Game  Reserve,  4 
Ukamba,  Province  of  B.  E.  A.,   231, 

271 

Uklanski,  Baron  von,  281 
Unclassified  species  of  African  game, 

130,  131,  133,  134 
"  Unknown  "  regions  of  Africa,  88 
Unyoro,  King  of,  214 
Unyoro,  sleeping  sickness  in,  221 
Usoga,  Saza  chief  of,  214 
Usoga,  sleeping  sickness  in,  221 
Usoga,  women  of,  237 


Vegetarians,  native,  34,  66 

Vehicles  and  beasts  in  Nairobi  streets, 

280 
"Vermin"  under  game  laws,  192,  257 


Vice  among  natives,  220 
Victoria  Nyanza,  Lake,  57,  75,  79-81, 
88,   133,   134,   204,   205,   209,   220, 

221,  223,  230,  231,  250-252,  269,  283 

Victoria   Nyanza,    Lake,    islands   in, 

220,  221,  231,  234 
Vitality  of  game,  33,  37,  53,  54,  89, 

109,  no,  177,  275,  277 
Voi,  station  on  Uganda  Railway,  269, 

270 

Volcanic  region  deficient  in  water,  5,  8 
Volcanic  region,  scenery  in,  8 
Vultures,  56,  104 


w 

Wakamba  tribe,  62,  66,  72,  279 
Wakikuyu  tribe,  62,  66 
Waleran,  Lord  and  Lady,  281 
Walleye,  Juja  pony,  191,  196 
Wami  Farm,  195,  201 
Wami,  Mt.,  199,  200,  202 
Wanderobo,  4,  19,  28-30,  64,  66,  117- 

123,   127,   129,    130,   134-136.   i38. 

139,   142,   143,  .145.   l63,   i65.   l66 
Wantarunta,  Mabira  forest,  246 
War  dance,  Kavirondo,  87 
Ward,  Rowland,  23,  30,  59,  159 
Warfare,  inter-tribal,  219,  223 
Wart-hog,  in,  189,  266 
Wasoga  tribe,  134 

Wassama,  Regal,  2,  13,  18,  19,  66,  181 
Waste  in  rubber  industry,  242 
Water  buck,  51-56,  109,  123,  129,  189 
Water  python,  see  Python 
Water  supply,  5-11,  40,  45 
Water  tanks,  natural,  5-7,  9,  n,  45 
Weavers,  native,  215 
Wembe,  Kavirondo,  87 
West,  freight  rates  in,  249 
White  Fathers  at  Kampala,  212 
White  men  at  Victoria  Nyanza,  first, 

231 

White  Nile,  233 
White  settlers  in   Equatorial  Africa, 

218,  224-228,  239,  249,  271,  282,  283 
White  victims  of  sleeping  sickness,  82, 

179,  222 

Wild  dog,  41,  42 
Wildebeeste,  26,  44,  123-125,  277 
Wind,  working  up,  in  stalking  game, 

59 
Wives  of  Chief  Mataia,  treatment  of, 

128 
Wives  of  King  of  Ankole,  216 


INDEX 


299 


Wodehouse,  Lord,  281 

Women,  Kavirondo,  85,  86,  211,  212, 

236 

Women,  Kikuyu,  279 
Women,  native,  work  the  farms,  227, 

236 

Women  of  Usoga,  237 
Women,  types  of  native,  218 
Women,  Uganda,  211,  212,  236 
Wounds    and    punishment,    recovery 

from,  165,  184,  219 
Wounds  inflicted   by   lion,    202,    257 
Wrestling  matches,  native,  247 


Yankee  and  Briton  manners  toward 

strangers,  78,  79 
Yardley,  Col.,  281 
Yellowstone  Park,  270 

z 

Zambesi  River,  283 

Zanzibar,  Star  of,  214 

Zanzibar,   Sultan   of,    214,    231,    269 

Zebra,  125,  189,  194,  255,  282 

Zichy,  Count,  281 

Zimba  invasion,  269 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


OC 


1  5  2005 


3  1205  00813  3918 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL AJBRARYMOUTjf 


A     000  580  973     6 


